


Everyone Wants a Lethal Girlfriend

by Alfyie



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games), Titanfall (Video Games)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst and Humor, Angst with a Happy Ending, F/F, F/M, Gen, Harems, Humor, Multi, Mystery, Rivalry, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-05-13 20:21:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 33
Words: 72,801
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19258513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alfyie/pseuds/Alfyie
Summary: -Season One Complete!- A fanfic focused on character development and building Wraith's beautiful love octagon.  💕[ONGOING UPDATES AND ADDITIONAL CONTENT ON WATTPAD; I've been bad at updating AO3, so sorry about that!!]Taking after the cinematic trailer squad (Mirage, Pathfinder, Wraith), we follow Wraith within the trio learning to survive-- which they do well on their own. But each of them had the same curiosity: could they win together? They might have the good looks, but there's nothing dainty about brutalizing lives to win sweet cash. And while Wraith knows she has what it takes, she didn't imagine the people she would meet, or how they'd perceive her. Wraith thought everyone is out to kill her; but will they? Can her squad zipline and bamboozle their way to victory, or will Wraith find too many distractions?Basically: A realistic harem anime with Wraith in the center of it all.A/N: I'm in absolute love with these characters, and look forward to exploring their chaos and humor-- hope you enjoy as much as I will! Rated M because I may include graphic scenes of brutality, etc. It is a blood sport, and I want to stay true to that intensity!





	1. [ prologue ]

**Author's Note:**

> [ Hey there! I'm Alfyie and completely new to AO3!! Season One of this series is already done (originally posted on Wattpad)-- sorry if the formatting is strange at all for this platform. Give me tips if you'd like, & watch out for more updates soon. <3 ]

I couldn't feel my face; it was numb, and cold. I spit. I already knew the way that blood seeps like syrup-- it empties like water when I'm the one tasting it. My hands crunch into the slouched dirt and grass, grabbing something, anything, to help raise my weight.

But I didn't feel real pain. Not even the deafening ringing in my ears could hurt me. There are some things that are stubborn, untouchable. Whatever they are, I feel them like a fire within me. I'm not scared. 

_I'll never be._

My voice becomes a wet rasp as I shout, "Path!" I hear nothing.

Another voice speaks-- the voices of the void. _You're seen. Hide!_

I sigh, exasperated as I glance at the nearby boulder that still had my gore on it. _Yeah, Void, I'll be right on that with my probably-broken ankles._ Immediately, I hear footsteps. Several of them. I brace myself, grabbing the holster of my gun. 

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

I roll over upwards, prepared to unload my entire magazine into the oncoming squads. I think about the people I've met. I think about their faces, vividly-- how alone I felt before I knew anything about who I was, and how they changed that. I realize, before I take my first shot, how much it all meant to me.


	2. [ elliot ]

It used to be hard to tell whether the void's voices were _me_ or not. Imagine your own thoughts saying something different to you. Some days, I don't know how I survived waking up, locked in that mental institution, or how I even escaped. I barely remember anything but the raw, primal desire for freedom. It was all a blur-- ripping my way through the stale, white halls. Sometimes I wonder if I wasn't trying to escape _them_. I was trying to escape myself.

But not anymore. Most days, I know what matters most.

"Trust yourself," I tell Mirage as I sit lax against a steel chair. Our squad agreed to spend a day at the training area, but Path and I were more diligent about it than the pretty boy. The corner of Mirage's beard lifts, hinting a smirk, as he raises a beautiful red Longbow. He mentioned being mainly a close to mid-range fighter-- but you never know what gun you'll find in a match. We all need broad skill sets, but sniping happens to be my specialty.

"Why wouldn't I?" He replies, scoffing with a jesting smile. "With these looks, c'mon..." I look away into the training grounds. The Apex Games' shooting range was well-made, wide, and open air. A Leviathan skeleton overhung above us, and rows of close, mid-range, and distant targets were abundant. And that perfectly light blue sky was hard to ignore. Hard to not enjoy.

Pathfinder wasn't missing from the scene, of course. In fact, his grapple is a rather loud reminder-- he swung effortlessly between buildings, a practice he insists on despite being 99.9% reliable at it. I'd be running up there with him, but I had been running and shooting for hours from arriving early-- the sweat inside my leather outfit clung to my skin. I swing another gulp of water out of the flask from my belt, and shake my scarf to blow cool air down my neck.

Then, a glare from Mirage's pristine sniper flashes my sight. It wouldn't have bothered me as much if I didn't see the man snickering as he twirled the gun, creating a faux disco in my quiet corner of the range. I roll my eyes. "Nobody cares if you kill them with a red, pink, blue, or polka dot Longbow. Hell, it's best that they don't even see it." There's a pause between us before I gesture to the targets, annoyed. "Can you take the shot already?" I shouldn't be surprised anymore. Mirage always had to be funny, and always had kill in style. He carries his fame so easily, like he was born with it. 

He flashes a confident grin. "Oh yeah, lady, I didn't forget." He glances back at the range, and suddenly fires three shots in succession.

"Path?" I call out loudly. I see his grapple latch onto Mirage's tiny target, 500 meters away, and as the robot leaps forward, he lands in front of it before looking around himself.

A faint blue color shows from Pathfinder's screen. "All of them missed, friend!"

Mirage's tanned skin runs a shade redder. "No that's perfect, now you're exactly where I want you!" He shouts angrily. I shouldn't have found it funny, so I stifle a giggle. Part of me thinks he planned to blame Path from the start. Mirage glances at me quickly with an unexpecting wide grin. "Ooh, you can't hide that from me, missy. I made you laugh, didn't I? Tell me I made you laugh!"

I shake my head, disguising it into a cough behind my fist. I mutter, "Whew, it's dusty in here, isn't it Mirage?" He chuckles.

"Elliot."

"What?" I call out, feeling I misheard him. Pathfinder grapples towards us and lands cleanly-- his clanking steps approaching behind the trickster. His monitor showed a confused expression.

"Call me Elliot." He smirks weakly. "I like to hear my real name sometimes. Nobody else remembers it. Might as well let my teammates, yeah?" I raise a brow, curious. Pathfinder raises a finger to speak, but Elliot coughs as he presses his sunbeaten cheek, "Damn, it _is_ dusty in here."

I smile slightly at Pathfinder, then Mirage. "We'll call you whatever you want... Elliot." I pause, staring at the side of his scarred face. "That's a good name for you. It's almost cute," I joke.

His relaxed gaze lit up. "Cute, huh?" He shakes his head jokingly. "You should really see whats under all these straps and buckles," he smirks... shyly? Or just quietly. I never thought Elliot, of all people, _could_ act shy.

"Under?" I ask, quieter than I meant. For a split moment, I couldn't feel my sweat anymore. I look intensely at him I was trying to memorize his face; but the truth was my mind felt dizzy, and a blush grew on my neck. It felt like he was putting me on the spot for no reason. Or maybe it was the gentle way he did it-- the chocolate eyes he's adored for.

He stares back at me before a smooth smile warms his face again. Elliot whispers playfully,  "Heh, so even the infum-infay-..." I chuckle at his usual stumble of words. "... Okay, what I mean is," he steps closer to me, and leans down close to my face. Way too close. He cooed, "Even the feared Wraith gets nervous around boys.~" My face burns red. He winks. "I won't tell." 

"That's private," I demand, dizzy but defiant, "This is your clone, isn't it? You didn't even show up to target practice, did you? Stop messing aro--" I try to push him away, but it lands on his firm, real torso instead. "Mirage!" I yell in an embarrassed panic. A lanky shadow casts over us. We gaze up at Pathfinder behind him.

"I can teach you to aim your Longbow, friend!" 

Elliot glares, annoyed,"Hey, the adults are speaking, so don't touch me you weird smiling-- HEY!--"

Path picks up the kicking trickster like a bag of flour. "Now put your arm raised--" Path's whirled Elliot with his robotic strength.

Their arguing is a blur in my head. I try to catch my breath, blood returning to my heart from my face. I couldn't believe how clearly Elliot saw through me-- how vulnerable he made me feel in that moment. It wasn't anything I was used to. Did I hate it? But didn't he take it too far? I felt a heat rise below my stomach, a sensation I barely recognize. Shit.

"I'm calling it a day, guys," I call out, still not making eye contact with Elliot. The boys pause their wrestling as they look at me, and I realize Pathfinder is holding Elliot's waist closely, like two dancers. I smirk weakly, "Don't get _too_ cozy."

Elliot chuckles and forces himself out of Path's grasp, and gives me one last nod. He replies, "Restin' for the win, yeah? Good call. We're up tomorrow."

"I know." I wave with a smile. "Bye Path." The robot gives me an estatic wave goodbye, as always.

 

\- - -

 

The daylight of the training area was behind me. My footsteps echo through the metal chambers leading towards the docks, where my ship would take me back to housing.

_You're being watched._

I never doubt the voices. I suddenly turn around, checking every corner around me fervidly. I breathe deep, only focusing my trust in my instincts. "Who's there?" I snap.

A faint red sheen in the opposing dark corner finally becomes clear-- and my flesh feels cold. The hunter as mysterious as death itself. Someone with no friends, and few remaining enemies. The champion of the Apex Games. Bloodhound.


	3. [ bloodhound ]

 

From the far dark corner, the hunter's red optics and leather outfit were so still, I almost can't tell if they're breathing. But I hear that filtered, raspy breath. I stare in silence, my hands tense and ready for an escape. I didn't know Bloodhound interacted with anyone outside of the ring. So little is known about them that I feel my heartbeat in my skull. They're impossible to predict. 

After a long moment, Bloodhound step forwards to speak with an alto voice filtered by their mask and maybe something else. "I tookh it upon myself to learn ab'ut you, Wraith," they said. The sharp daylight from the far archway illuminates their legs and little else. "Our squads vill be in the next ring together."

My stomach flips. "What would you know about me?" I snap. What did they find out?

Do they know more than me?

Almost elegantly, Bloodhound puts their hands behind their back, and strides to my left, still keeping eye contact evenly. Our significant height difference didn't terrify me-- only the thought that they could blackmail me with my stolen past. The memories taken from me.

As if seeing the source of my anxiety, they finally reply simply, "Nothing thath you wouldn't know. The knowledge you seek is more trouble than it is worth for me." I narrow my eyes as they say this. "It is worthless compared to who you've become."

"It is not _worthless_ to understand how I got here," I hiss at them. They're almost beside me now, and I turn my body defensively accordingly, my left arm ready to make a strike. "Would you say the same for yourself?"

"Yes," they answer immediately-- not even a flinch. "I am Bludhünder, the instrument of death for the gods themselves. Nothing else matters. Not even I." They stand still again, and the light is harsh and directy to their side. Our long shadows stretch to the exit; and yet, I felt a small angry curiousity over the need to escape.

"How do you live with yourself?" I push calmy despite the accusation. "If killing and the Apex Games is all that matters to you, aren't you imprisoning yourself? Abandoning friends, family, simply the knowledge that you were ever cared about or loved,"--I say strained--" or even living inside that mask, your life and identity chained by some duty?"

Bloodhound gave a pause, before they spoke with their usual candance: "This is who I am, who I must be. I trust nature before myself."

I laugh unamused, "Oh, did your little birds tell you to talk to me? Why? Why are you here?"

They offer a hand. I look down, and see a scroll of paper. "I have no comfort to offer your grievences-- this path is the only one I can take. Much like how you feel about your own path." They nod slightly. "However, I admire the honor you carry. Join me, Wraith. We can kill bvetter together."

I blink. "No. What?" I say disbelievingly. "The round is tomorrow. Are you insane? You want me to back out of my team?"

Bloodhound nods. "I have a specific hunt I am studying. If you are on my team, I will not be forced to end your path short. I know what you seek on those grounds-- if I am on the field, you may never get there until the next games." Another pause between us as I still give them a wide-eyed look. "You seem hesitant."

"Of course," I huff annoyingly, "You underestimate me."

"No," Bloodhound states. "Your teammates do not have the skill needed to win. If my squad ends them both, and you are left-- can you take three of us out? Or vill the god's hunt and our gunfire find you first?"

The offer is beginning to make sense, not that I am anymore flattered. "You sure took your time in making this offer, didn't you?"

"I must choose righteously." Their arms cross. "Decisions such as allies take time."

My tense arm, which was ready for a fight, began to relax. My posture becomes a bit more comfortable as I shift, though I still feel mentally guarded. "What could ever make you trust me?" I say quietly.

I hear slight humor in Bloodhound's voice: "I trust in only the gods. But I respect you. I am a hunter-- an admirer of life and death. You see the value in living, and what it means to take it away, don't you?"

I feel suddenly overwhelmed with memories of the institution. The waves of attempts I did to kill myself, just to quiet the voices-- then my sudden desire to survive. To listen. To live. "Yes," I whisper.

Their voice almost seemed earthy and deeper than usual. "I believe you must continue in the games, Wraith. Only we can win."

I couldn't believe that I was beginning to consider their offer. It was true that neither Pathfinder nor Mirage (as famous as he is) had ever been champions of the Apex Games, and I knew their strengths and weaknesses. But to change teams now....

"It would be dirty," I say quietly, my gaze breaking toward the open arch. "I know too much about them. Their strengths, weaknesses. Maybe if you asked me a month ago, Bloodhound. But not now."

"Very well," they nod, though their voice seemed strangely approving. With the scroll tucked away, they hold out their empty gloved hand. "May I have your hand for a moment?" My thoughts race to figure out what they're about to do, but I can't imagine it. I silently put my hand in theirs; its warm, which surprises me. Why did I imagine it cold?

Suddenly, Bloodhound puts their other hand over mine. I feel my thoughts empty my body, shocked. They bow deeply, the forehead of their mask against the back of their hands. "May the gods bless you on your path," they whisper. I feel heat in my face as I realize the Champion of the Apex Games gave me a blessing against themselves. And I feel awe. Bloodhound's raw selflessness became clear to me. They slowly release my hand and rise.

"You seem disturbed, or embarrassed," Bloodhound noted.

"No-- it's just..." I breathe heavily, "I've never had someone bless me before." Yep, let's go with that.

Rather pleased, they respond, "If you uphold your honor, it may not be the last. We vill see each other in the ring-- I am sure of it." I nod, a confusing inner peace washing over me. How could this person ever grant me comfort? They had the one of the most disarming reputations of anyone, and yet... they are gentle.

"Thank you," I find myself saying. "The fact that you believe in me... It matters a lot." The heat in my face worsens, because I feel like I'm saying barbarian words compared to Bloodhound's natural eloquent nature. But it all escaped me before I could stop myself.

Their hands return crossed to their back as they begin to walk towards the exit. Their filtered voice responds, "If your path does not satisfy you, I vill always be waiting." Dark doors open, then close.

I stand there for a bit, to feel the sun. I kept thinking about their hands. The warmth.


	4. [ elliot's check in / path's gift ]

My bedroom wasn't interesting when I got it, and I kept it that way. Dark metal walls, brown carpet floors. The dinky wooden table is empty and barely used. My tall closet is neatly closed. My bed with the simplest iron bed frame sits in the corner, where I first saw it.

When I go out, it looks like nobody lives here. And maybe nobody does; not really, anyway. Seeking for answers doesn't always feel like living your best life.

I try not to linger on thoughts. I feel it causes obsession, greed, complexes, bitterness-- and the only obsession I can afford is finding out who did _this_ to me. Once I know how I gained these powers of the Void and who took my past life away from me, maybe that anger will end.

But as I lay on my bed, I did linger a little on one thought: why would Bloodhound care if I completed my goals or not? They cared enough to bless me. What difference did it make for them? And they never clarified what they knew about my 'path'.

I couldn't figure it out. I shut my eyes.

 _Klunk klunk klunk_. My eyes pop open to the solid metallic door knocking.  "Yo! You in there, champ-to-be?"

It puts a knot in my stomach as I recall the smell of his mint breath. So I groan loud enough for him to hear it. "Go away, Elliot. I'm not portaling you to a bar again."

"Nah, nahh. Wait," his roguish voice backtracks, "it's like, only 6 at night! You're not trying to sleep already, are you?!"

Maybe some contestants felt loose about their responsibilities, but I wasn't one of them. "We have a fucking drop tomorrow! You sleep!" I put my pillow on my head and dive deeper into my blankets, where I feel safe.

It's quiet, but not long enough for me to feel relieved. "Look, I came to apologize." His voice sounds sincere; unusual for him. "I kinda got in your space earlier. I just wanted to help you have fun and all, because you took all our practices so seriously... and uh..." I hear his hair ruffling. "Yeah. I feel like I made you uncomfortable and I won't do it again."

My face peeks out of my pillow to make an audible reply. "I've dealt with worse jokes." I smile. "But thank you."

"Wait what? Did you say something?"

I roll my eyes, and finally stand up to open the door. As I crack the door open, I see Elliot's raised left arm leaned on the doorway over me, wearing a regular white tshirt and khaki pants. My night attire was a simple black tank top and shorts. Unsurprisingly, he was better dressed.

I stare at him fiercely. His eyes are meeting mine with feigned innocence. "W-What was that?" Elliot smiles stupidly.

I roll my eyes. "I said apology accepted, and you can definitely go away now."

He scratches his head, a little amused. "Hey, but wait." His hand gestures a wheel while he's trying to remember what he wants to say. "I'm trying to find out something too." I raise my brow at him. He continues, "When we dive in, you said you wanted to look at some old facilities there. What are you looking for? Something I can help with?" Mirage's smile is small, and simple. I search the performer's expression for a sign of malignancy or humor. I don't find any.

"I don't know," I say quietly. "Anything. I need to know if there were IMC operations I was involved in. Or how many were like mine."

He nods slowly with a muttered 'mm.' With a slight beard stroke, he asks, "What's "like yours" mean exactly?"

I shift my feet, staring. "I... don't know," I admit. "Obviously anything to do with the Void or experimenting with humans."

"But what if the IMC didn't do that to you?" Elliot points out. "What if they found you like that?"

My brows furrow at him and his dark curls. Mirage wasn't wrong, for once. He gives a perky smile between the long silence. "I won't know until I find out," I say decisively. "Now sleep."

The man raises his arms from the door frame in a surrendering position. "Fine~ Y'know if you did portal me to a bar, I'd be in and out in a spiffy-- just in time for my 6:30 nap!" I give him an unamused glare. He laughs heartily as he steps back. "I take that as a no. Night, missy."

My expression eases. I nod. "Goodnight." He twists around on his heel and whistles with a playful stride down the hallway. I narrow my eyes for a second. Does he really walk like that everywhere, or just when girls are around? Well, whatever. I close the door.

I made it halfway to my bed before there was another knock at the door. I growl angrily as I open the door, "Elliot, I _swear_ \--"

"Friend!" Pathfinder, taller and lankier than the trickster, gave his playful wave. In fact, he was bowing down a little to look under the doorway. His screen gave a flash of worry to a happy smile. My expression immediately drops into surprise.

"Oh, Path. I'm sorry," I smile. I never had to worry about Pathfinder. He was always reliable, never had a reason to lie or trick me, and treated me kindly-- well, probably because he's on my squad. He kills people rather gleefully. "I was about to sleep. What's going on?"

His arm squeaks as he pulls out a small tin. "I always make dinner for my teammates before the first round!" I raise a brow. I had already eaten, but I was more curious than unappealed.

"I didn't know MRVN units were programmed to cook," I wonder.

Path's pupil whirls outward. "Oh no! I was taught! Very friendly family on Solace. Almost killed their father in front of their wife and children, but very glad I did not!"

I blink. "Yeah, I'll try it." Best to be safe.

"Yay!" With a cheerful fist pump, Path hands the tin forward. "I hope you like it!" As I take it, I see he included a metal spoon at the side of his grasp. It makes me smirk for some reason-- and I'm already smelling a tempting sweet, savory smell from within the warm tin.

"Let me try it right now." I open it up. My mouth gapes at the gorgeous collection of caramelized onions over crisp fatty pieces of meat, sinking in a dark brown sauce. "Path..." I say in amazement. "What is this?"

"Eastern Leviathan stew," he says proudly, arms on his hips. "I am told that it is good!"

I go ahead and take a bite. The fatty and spice-rich flavors melt in my mouth and I already know 'good' is an understatement. As I take it in, I look up to thank him. "Path--" A laugh bursts out of me. His eager pupil was lowered towards my face, dilated from excitement.

He straightens as his screen shows a bright, red-cheeked grin. "You like it! I am glad."

I smile, but its pressing into my face-- wider than I usually allow. "Thank you, Path. I'm going to enjoy this."

Path nods. "Are you cheered up, friend?"

"Huh?" I ask.

The expression on the monitor turns more shy. "You seemed rather down as you left our squad practice. I had hoped to help you feel better."

I press my lips together. For a MRVN unit, Path seemed to have a wider range of emotion than his tone let on. "Yeah, I'm cheered up. Elliot came by to apologize too." Pathfinder's expression doesn't seem to change though his pupil whirls. I pause. "Thanks for distracting him for me when... that happened."

"Anytime, friend," Path says in his normal cheery voice, his signature smile on the monitor again. Yet, for some reason, it sounds off beat to me.

I decide to add, "You've got to make this for me again. This is so much better than the mess halls around here."

Pathfinder's monitor shows a smile with hearts to its side. "Anytime! I hope you rest well, friend." His joints clink as he gives a small polite bow.

"Night, Path." I give a last lopsided smile as the robot walked off into the hallway. I didn't see another tin in his other hand, though. Maybe he already gave one to Elliot.

I yawn as I shut the door. At least I had no teammates left to bother me. I put the food on my table and sit in the dark, taking a few more quick bites-- I think about the family that taught Path how to cook. Did I know anything about family once? Or cooking?

I'm ready to find out.


	5. [ first round / blood & illusions ]

The thundering winds of the moving dropship press my hair and leather tight against me, but I don't lose focus. I grab the handlebar above me tighter as we remain in the open cargo, watching the ship approach King Canyon's western side. The Swamp grows closer. The edge of the ship is beneath my impatient heel, though we don't have permission to drop yet. 

Mirage and Pathfinder are on both sides of me, also leaned out of the side of the ship and waiting for my call. I point towards the blue-beaconed iron towers of the Relay. "Hot zone. We'll have some company, but it's a good shot for high tier weaponry."

Pathfinder beeps, "When it comes to new friends, the sooner the better I say!"

Mirage grins at the view. "You two should already know-- I'm never one to shy away from the spotlight. Even if it's, uh, blue." Elliot rolls a shoulder, layered beneath cloth and technology. He smirks at us, confidence beaming in his wide chocolate eyes. "Let's kick some ass."

The announced rings the countdown. I nod to the boys. "Follow me."

 

// **relay**

"Wingman in my building," I point out on comms. We had taken out another squad that landed in our fenced room full of bins, but Mirage was still unarmed when I got into the neighboring buildings.

"Oh yeah," Elliot moans low into the radio, "Come to daddy."

A strange feeling starts to rise in my chest as I break a smirk. Still, my logic always wins over my emotion. "Can you keep the comms concise, Elliot? This is life or death." Well, not exactly since the Ring had very extensive precautions against permanent death. But I didn't show up to lose. I didn't even stop moving as I contemplated any of this-- as I spoke, I had already run up the stairs, grabbed an Eva-8, and jumped off the roof. 

"My bad," he says mischievously. "You can call me 'daddy' to keep it as concise as you'd like." His audio makes a _chk-chk_ sound with his tongue and lips. I automatically visualize his finger gunning pose while 95% sure he stopped to do it. I roll my eyes, hardly taking his humor seriously with gunshots all around us.

Path whirls on the radio, "Daddy, I hear a friend in my building! Downstairs, the radio tower at North!"

"Uhh..." Elliot starts, unsure-- but his tone drifts into quiet curiosity. "Hey, I could be into it."

I manage to suppress a smile. "I'm on my way from the east wire. Grab your Wingman quick, Elliot." I slide past another building before smoothly switching to a wiregrasp as I spring my legs, jumping to catch my ride up the zipline to Path's tower.

As I ride the wire, I see a familiar red glimmer through red goggles, glowing bright in the shade of the building. It dashes inside. My eyes widen. I didn't expect this fight so soon. "It's Bloodhound's squad," I quickly mutter as I take out my Eva-8. "Path, be unpredictable." 

"Noted!" He says cheerfully. I hear his grapple inside, then gunshots. I sprint around the building, getting through a back door-- immediately, theres a woman dashing up the stairs. I use my fully auto shotgun against her back. She screams as the spread bullets rip through her jetpack and armor, ushering red splotches on pale cloth.

I don't pause to salivate-- I'm here to kill. I punch her exposed neck, and she quickly falls down the stairs with booming, crackling volume. Shotgun aimed, I glance around before I run up the stairs. "I'm on the zipline, I see one outside," Mirage mutters on comms. That meant only one more inside, chasing Path.

I slide through an archway, and see Bloodhound with a Peacekeeper-- and a clear shot on Path, who was on the balcony. I raise my gun as my breath feels heavy. I try not to hesitate. 

But it wasn't enough. With hunter-like instinct, the masked human steps back inside the building, turns around, and shoots a full shot into my chest. With only a grey protective shield, I quickly felt deep, penetrating stings into my torso and began to bleed through the thick leather. I tighten my fist as I fall into the void, stumbling as I find safety, and jump down the stairs.

I reappear near the backdoor I came from, but one of Bloodhound's husky, built teammates quickly opens it from the other side. He starts shooting his Alternator into me, causing my whole body to shudder at the impacts. I can barely hear his laugh: "Haha! Gibraulter is full of surpri--" I grunt furiously as I try to take out my Eva again.

Suddenly, Mirage appears beside him, and, with two Wingman headshots, the large man stumbles back on the floor, almost motionless in agony. I didn't envy him-- while headshots weren't lethal in the Apex Games, the invisible shields on our faces did not prevent immense pain. An intentional design.

Elliot kicks the white-armored man out of spite. "Damn, Bloodhound didn't get good buddies, did they?" he smirks, voice clear and close. He throws me a couple syringes as I catch them in my palm.

I shake my head. "We're getting lucky. Now go get Path!" We hear another Peacekeeper shot above us.

Path's cheery voice whirls, "He's on the balcony, friends! I'm down!"

I quickly get to a corner, shoving syringes into my arm. It causes a cold chill as I feel memories prod into me about the IMC institute-- there was only one thing that got me through that.

 _Trust yourself_. The voices began to clutter like a beehive. _What's going on?_ "Mirage, where are you?" I mutter into my headset, still injecting more meds into myself. Nothing.

I see an orange scan exude through the building. "Elliot??" I say louder. Suddenly, I see him run outside through the glass door, with Bloodhound right beside him. 

Mirage runs off the cliff. Bloodhound quickly looks back-- only to see the real Mirage, slamming a hard kick into Bloodhound's shattering mask.

The Champion of the Apex Games falls down to the bottom of King's Canyon. The announcer even says it-- and I still can't believe it. My heart finally pounds less. "Elliot, what the fuck?" I start to break out into a stomach-aching laugh. I hear Elliot's baritone laughter quickly join me. Pathfinder whirls gleefully, "That was a perfect kill, daddy!"

"Thanks son," Elliot breathes out despite himself. Bloodhound's equipment generates in a box near Elliot. The laughter dies down when he quickly claims the hunter's Peacekeeper. I was healed, though without shields-- but before anything else, I go back up the stairs, injecting an emergency repair syringe into Path's systems.

Path's pupil gazes up at mine. "Sorry for failing, friend. I am sure to kill more in this match!" 

I smile. "Path, you held out against a 3v1 longer than we would." I hold out my arm to pull him up.

As Pathfinder stands, his screen is strangely blank. He beeps quietly, "I cannot disappoint my creator." With that, he runs inside to loot the enemy crates. I join behind him, though I feel a bit worried-- how do robots like Path deal with complex emotions? Like fear, or disappointment?

Then, a separate thought lingered in my mind throughout the match. I began to worry Bloodhunter would find me to talk again.


	6. [ broken optics ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore note: The planet that King's Canyon is on actually doesn't have a name; Respawn never officially mentions or clarifies. For the sake of this continuing story, I will be naming it A32.

// **wraith's room**

We secured our first round as a win-- it felt almost too quick to be real. To be honest, everything went smoothly after the confrontation with Bloodhound. Though when I analyze the situation, we simply had a lucky draw of loot. With limited weapons and ammo upon landing, I know we could've ended the Apex Games there.

I get out of the bathroom, having just washed my face before bed. The bare necessities of  my room weren't all chosen from lack of interest. I couldn't afford much besides the small view available from my desk's window. I lived on  mainland, 50 miles from King's Canyon, and still think A32 seemed like a lifeless name for such a beautiful planet; or what's left of it. I suppose that's what war does.

Our squad had celebrated with gunfire and laughter, of course, but nothing wild afterwards. I think about how Path seemed distracted despite the win. And while Mirage wanted to drink the night away in celebration, I didn't feel like conversation and liquid mind-numbing. Just a little music before I sleep.

Music was the first thing I found when I got free from the IMC. With no food or money needed to survive, trash was the first place I could start. I remember someone forgot a small rickety stereo radio in a trashed alley; it was clearly thrown from the cracks in its grey plastic. But it still works, holding twenty songs in its hard drive on top of its radio capacity. Nothing impressive; only precious. I've kept it ever since. 

I took out the small handheld stereo from my closet, clicking on a song I listened to often-- although, I haven't shown it to anyone (See pg2 of banner for YT audio). The beat is soft in rythmn, non-threatening and sweet in melody. Only dark blues and moonlight seep into my room. I try to escape to that part of me that longs for peace. The girl that didn't want to hurt anyone anymore, even if she needed to survive at any cost.

I lay down on my bed, above the cool thin sheets, and I feel tension leave my body. Maybe music simply drowned out the chaos for a little while. I stare at my ceiling-- longing for the inner silence I lacked. 

Suddenly, I hear a flutter of wings. I sit up slowly, looking around the room, then the small window near my dusty wooden desk-- surely enough, there was a raven. I would've left it alone, yet it kept a purposeful stare at me. After a few moments, I give in to curiousity. I crack the window open.

I jolt back as I see a red glove suddenly grab the window ledge. Shocked, I act on instinct alone. While in my predictable tank top night wear, I take a strong step forward before snapping a punch towards the rising figure. Suddenly, they catch my wrist.

They pull themselves up gently. I gape at the most brilliant blue eyes I've ever seen.

"Bloodhound?" I say under my breath, easing my fist. They had no goggles-- just their signature gas mask and peeks of long, blonde hair. I feel stupidly confused, though out of respect I raised the window more. They grunt as they climb through, no doubt having their breath focus on sliding themselves into the room... It _is_ on the fifth floor.

The once-Champion rolls over the desk, landing evenly beside me. I blink. I hear my music still playing-- embarassed, I quickly stumble to turn it off. "You caught me at a bad time," I mutter while turned away, scatter-brained and defensive.

"I apologize," their musked voice states. "I did not vwant to wander the corridors with my... appearence exposed this far."

I look back at them, slightly surprised. "So why show me?"

Strangely, no reply. For a moment, we're only staring at each other. Their eyes are calm and clear blue, even in the night. I feel my heart in my throat. 

"Why... are you here?" I ask finally, striken with anxiousness. "Must be important enough to climb into the fifth floor."

They don't blink. "I needed to tell you in person-- that I was wrong abouth your squad." A slow nod. "They operate better than ever before. Because of you."

I smile slightly. "Thank you... But truthfully, it was hardly me. I just think teamwork is the only option in the Apex Games." I cross my arms as I note, "You fought well, as always. A shame your squad didn't stand by you more closely."

Bloodhound tips their jaw for a moment before saying pointedly, "The previous champion gains an invulnerability for the first roundth. You have not seen the last of us."

I nod slightly. "Well, I knew that much but--"

"Are your vwounds better?" they ask quickly.

"Uh," I say, caught off guard, "Yes. Yes, they are."

Bloodhound grunts approvingly before they pull out the desk chair and seat themself. I sit across from them on the bed, feeling awkward. No one had been in my room yet, not even Elliot or Path. And I still couldn't guess Bloodhound's gender-- their features (that I could see) seemed strong and weathered, yet unstretched and young. 

"Wraith," Bloodhound says lowly. "I do not know why the gods have led me to you, over and over again these past few weeks."

"What do you mean?" I say cautiously.

They lean forward in their seat, hands relaxed between their knees. "I was researching my competitors-- a hunter is only as good as their knowledge. But with every step of information towards the highest competitors of the Games, I found out more about you. You have..." They pause. "Strange connections. Some you do not know about."

My eyes narrow. "Like what?"

Bloodhound shakes their head. "It is not my place to say, as it involves secrets of others. But you do not yet understand how critical you are to the prey of the Games-- though," their eyes lift slightly as if they maybe smiled, "I think you will soon feel it. You are like the water the natural world needs to survive."

My face is suddenly hot, and my breathe feels heavy again, slowly paced to keep my focus. I never imagined anyone saying such a kind thing to me. I didn't deserve it.

I shake my head. "You're wrong; I can only see the destruction made in the search for my past, and my instinct to kill anyone who'd stop it," I whisper. Then a pause before I let out a small laugh, pressing my hand above my chest: "You didn't have a problem earlier when you shot me with a Peacekeeper."

For the first time, I hear Bloodhound's quiet breathy laugh. "It would be a disservice to not treat you as a true competitor within the Ring. And destruction is as natural as life, Wraith." They hold eye contact as heat continues to rise to my face. Bloodhound didn't seem surprised about the embarassment this time-- almost as if they expected it. "I see you do not understand how you surge life into others; your powerful will to survive does such. My path leads me to feel _you_ must win the next Apex Games-- and I will help guide you to become Champion."

That should've comforted me-- that's what they expected. But the warmth in my face dissipates. A chill falls through my spine.

"Why?" I say, harsher than I meant at first. I did not wake up naive-- I woke up in agony. As a woman that barely kept herself alive for years, I knew nothing was ever given for free. I become increasingly uncomfortable with Bloodhound's interest. "If research is all that's important to you... Am I your experiment? You're just curious and want to see how far you can push me?" My brows furrow as my voice raises. "How _powerful_ I can become?"

Bloodhound's eyes widenly slightly. "No. Power alone cannot win--"

The fire inside me grew into a rage. I stand up as my hands crackle with void energy: "So you broke into my room to offer me your _charity_?" My fist slams the desk behind them, and I lean in to their stoic gaze, shouting to their face, "Tell me _why you're here_ , damnit!"

Suddenly, their warm gloves rest on my shoulders, gently pushing me away. I stare, trying to keep my anger through the confusion. Bloodhound nods, "Wraith, you know yourself too well to ever be abused again. There is nothing anyone can do to contain you, not even I." A pause. "But everyone musth learn to love the hunt. I see only anger and loss in your eyes; you see people as walls to oppress against rather than doors to open."

Their glove lets me go before resting one on my hand. Bloodhound adds quietly, "To win, you must imagineth the open field beyond every burden and worry. To vwin, you must not regret."

I snap my hand away from theirs. I withdraw from their space and sit on my bed slowly. Then... I feel a dizzying pressure in my head--  tears begin to drip from my eyes. Somehow, Bloodhound's words made me feel more valuable than I had felt in a long time. No; they truly believe in me. "Why tell me? Why bother?" I whisper weakly, wiping my face quickly.

Bloodhound's head lowers as they stare at their own feet. "I have no easy answer for thath. Perhaps the Allfather willed it." Their eyes raise toward me. "Perhaps I believe the Games would change with you as Champion."


	7. [ anita ]

// **central market** , A32 mainland

 _"You have... Strange connections. Some you do not know about."_  

Bloodhound seemed convinced that I should win the games-- but could anyone truly be that selfless? How could that not be against their own interest? And, perhaps most importantly, what kind of connections could I possibly have to the Apex Games' highest competitors? The sly, blonde and deep eyed raven whisperer disappeared before I could really grasp their words. Now they're stuck in my head.

It's already been two days since our first win. The Apex Games only had one arena, so far at least-- our rounds couldn't always be back-to-back. With no actual death rate, the danger and lure pulled in hundreds of thousands, looking for fame and money. Our only win did allow us to collect a modest sum, at least enough for me to replace my boots.

The market wasn't as spectacular or developed as those on Solace, though the Apex Games attracted merchants of all kinds. The good stuff was high tier but limited, and would only be available in the market's early hours. This made dawn a prime time for browsing, as tables and canopys were being set along the road. The landscape bathed in morning chill and pale sunlight.

I figured getting new gear would be a squad activity, but now I was kind of wishing I didn't invite the boys.

Elliot's groan wasn't with his usual sultry flair-- it began with frusteration before yawning into sleepiness. "It's way too e-earlyyy in the morning for this," the self-proclaimed 'legend' complains, hands clutched behind his head. This time he wasn't in casual wear but his holographic battle suit, which was somewhat a problem. A couple musky guys wave at Elliot with a friendly wink, who he was more than happy to blow a kiss to back.

I roll my eyes while hiding a smirk in my scarf. "I don't know, we're running into a lot of your friends."

"Wha-- oh no," He chuckles, surprised. "I have _nooo_ idea who they are. Just fans, I guess.~"

I pause my step, realizing I wasn't hearing whirling gears anymore. "Wait, where's Pathfinder?"

We look behind us; in a shaded corner, we see the blue lanky robot kneeled down and talking to a young child. I walk quickly towards them, only slightly concerned after remembering Path's last mention of... well, almost killing a father in front of his family. I hear his cheery voice as we approach: "If she is lost, then she is simply not here yet! What did she look like?"

The little girl sniffs. "Curly hair, dark skin, um," she glances around, "I was scared of her at first." The girl notices us listening from behind Path. She blurts, "But she's super nice!!"

I cross my arms. "Path, are we looking for her step sister or something?"

The robot whirls around to us. "Not at all." His pupil discretely glances around us before stepping to us. He says quietly, his monitor showing a small smile, "It is a woman giving the girl many rations of food in trade for spare parts. She hasn't arrived yet." Elliot and I frown at each other. Part of me didn't really want to care-- but another part of me knew I wouldn't walk away.

I look at the scrawny girl, and kneel beside her. I start to feel bad for her-- a little girl trying to survive as much as anyone else. Elliot joins me. "She's just late, right?" I smile to her. "What makes you so worried?"

The girl looks shamefully at the floor. "I never told her that I stole the parts. I think I--"

Suddenly, we hear deafening gunshots nearby; and they weren't shy about it, either. The girl jumps back, teary-eyed, as we listen closely to the direction and sound. "Flatline-- only a few buildings east, maybe?" I mutter. The scattering crowd begin as people begin tripping over tables and loose wires to find safety.

I look at the squad with a raised brow. This wasn't inside the Apex Games. People could die. Still, Elliot suggests with his everyday casual smirk, "Hey, I got a gun on me. Let's just see if it's her gal."

 

// minutes later

We had followed the shots, but they disappeared after a while. The only thing we found is a shoddy weaponry shop, open doors and full of smoke.

I nod at Elliot. With a snazzy finger gun movement, he shoots a clone that runs through the doorway. But, no gunfire. "Alright, I'll move in first," I say. I had the best escape abilities anyway.

I slowly step through the doorway, attempting to plant my steps carefully. I see a fallen body beneath me, and pick up their Alternator. _Eyes on you, watch out_ , the voices warn. "Not here to fight," I announce myself sharply, searching for a figure near me. "I'm looking for a woman-- curly haired, I'm told."

"Ain't that sweet," mutters a rugged feminine growl. "Most people say to look for my resting bitch face."

Suddenly, an armored knee kicks into my shins, forcing me on the ground. I pull my weight sideways before she attempts to knock my face into the floor, and slam myself into her firm waist. Whoever she was, she was incredibly strong-- from against the wall, she immediately punched a fist into my stomach. I drop my gun and spit an aching cough, kneeling down, though hearing Pathfinder's fast steps and metallic fists punching the woman down. Her gasps of pain are enough to force me to shout. "No!" I say hoarsely, "Path! She might be the one the girl's looking for."

"Girl?" The woman's voice says quietly. The smoke is beginning to dissipate as Elliot helps pick me up. The bodies around me become more clear. Broken ligaments with faces barely intact; if they did compete in the Ring, they weren't alive to do it anymore. It stank of blood and sour meat. I consider that I might've gotten lucky.

Mirage gives a long whistle. "You took out these poor guys just now?"

We look at the dark and bruised woman, getting herself up against a nearby countertop. Her armor had ripped cloth around her mid-riff and arms. It showed that her build was stocky and diligently trained; no wonder I began to regret melee combat with her."Yeah. Bastards insisted I took their magazine canisters." She huffs a laugh to herself, sweat glistening off her arms. I begin to recognize a tattoo off her exposed biceps, though she continues to shake her head, "No idea what they were on about."

I nod slowly. There wasn't much to do besides believe the last person alive. The IMC used to give "laws" to the Frontier-- but they were gone. Killing people in daylight was a good way to make enemies, but nothing to report about. Not even the Games cared.

Pathfinder gets to the point before me. "A little girl said that she is looking for a woman to trade food for her parts. Is that you?"

The aggressive expression on the woman's face returns. "What's it to you, tin can?"

Path beeped cheerfully, "She may have lied to you. Those parts she gave were stolen."

The woman rolls to her back and raises her pistol at Path, despite still leaning on the counter for support. "Alright, what the fuck are you guys doing in my business?" she demands. 

I reply crossly, "We have no idea who the hell you are. A little girl asked us for help. We gave it." I narrow my gaze, snapping. "If you want to help her, you should go to her soon."

 The woman's cool gaze met mine. I begin to notice the ridges in her hair, the power she carried in her presence, and the blood drip from her chin. She nods before shuffling to get on her feet steadily again. "Alright," she smirks to me. "I like you."

Elliot smooths his hair out before pounding his chest and raising his arms up. "Hellooo? What am I, chopped liv--?"

The woman fires a gun shot beside his feet. She says smoothly, "Take another step towards me, and you might be. I don't care if I'm looking at one of yesterday's winning squads." She glances at me-- she seems strangely more relaxed now. "Yeah, I've heard of you guys. So. Got a name besides Wraith?"

Path's monitor shows a confused emote, while my own expression didn't feel much different.Elliot half-laughs at her mere audacity. "What the hell?? _This_ is the moment you want to flirt with my teammate?" Anita ignores him, raising an interested brow at me.

I smirk at Elliot-- just to tease, I shrug. "It's definitely a new tactic." I look at the woman. "Wraith is all I got, and you already knew that. A bit rude that we don't know yours."

She gives a white-toothed grin. "Anita Williams. It's Bangalore in the arena." She pauses, and puts the gun away. "I'll see to that little girl. Been keeping tabs on her since I got here-- didn't seem like she had much anyone to rely on. She wanted to help me too but... I didn't realize she was risking herself for me." Anita frowns, mostly to herself. Then, she nods decisively. "Thanks for looking out for her. You three can come by the shop later. I'll find a way to thank ya."

She takes up a nearby cloth to wipe her face before Anita swayed out of the room. I can't help but to admire the strange rugged elegance she carried. It wasn't the best of first impressions for either of us, but I had a feeling that we were a lot alike.

Elliot facepalms. "Look, if you start dating that chick, we're gonna have a talk-- father to daughter."

I glare reflexively. "You are _not_ clinging to that 'daddy' joke. Also, dating isn't even a concept I understand."

Pathfinder beeps as he glances between us with a bright lit smile emote. "I think she will be a great friend! Hopefully we won't have to kill her!"

I glance around before saying, "Let's get out of here, guys. We still have a whole shopping trip ahead of us." And I'm already exhausted, I think as I sigh.

Though, truthfully, I was relieved to have an excuse to talk with Anita again. Before I leave, I think about the logo I saw tattooed on her arm: the IMC's.


	8. [ a simple mistake ]

// **central market** , A32 mainland

Pathfinder's needs were relatively straightforward: new parts. I envy that. I'd rather change out my feet for the same pair of feet, rather than choose a new style of boots. Too many choices that didn't matter-- unless they did, as Mirage's fashion instinct would say. But even when I was undecided, at the end of the day, it wasn't my own shopping bags that I was carrying.

"Elliot, you know we didn't win _this_ many credits, right?" I huff, balancing two boxes of his shoes between bags of Elliot's other impulse purchases.

Pathfinder wasn't unemployed in the effort. The robot was wearing a few of the hats Elliot picked up-- a rustic leather hat hanging by his left shoulder, a woven red one to his right, and a beanie partially slouched over Path's pupil.

I stare at Mirage's back as he continues to browse a rack of jackets. I snap, " _Elliot!_ "

He flinches-- then grins at me, like a cat on catnip. "Wha~? Hey, I'm not gettin' any of this at for full price. I get a discount in the Outlands."

"How's that?" I mutter, barely interested. It was already midday; we had been in the market for hours.

Elliot finger guns at me. "I always get the _famous and sexy_ discoun--" I immediately groan and drop his bags and boxes, turning the other way. He squeals in a panic, "Wraith, that's suede!!"

"I'm not dealing with this," I wave my hand without looking. "Get the clones to do it."

People stare at us cautiously, my eyes flashing as the Void warns me about the peering glances. I hear him whine loudly behind me: "They can't actually carry stuff!! P-Pleeaaase! Don't leave me with the robot..."

I grunt, annoyed, before looking around. Pathfinder blinks at Mirage and beeps, "I am wearing three hats! I hate it!" I raise an understanding gesture towards Path.

"See?" I frown. "It's like we're just your cattle, not your teammates."

Elliot sighs. "Alright, alright," he raises his hands. "I'm done. Can you just help me get it to my apartment?" Then, a mischievous smile. "Ohh! Then, let's get a drink!"

I pinch my nose, "I didn't want to make a whole day out of this shopping trip."

The trickster hums as he strides to me. "Oh~? But we gotta talk to Bangalore later anyway." He scratches his beard. "Man, I've seen her in the Ring, but didn't think she'd be grumpier in person."

Pathfinder nods, "She attacked Wraith without hesitation or mercy. She is a strange new friend!" I sigh before I start walking back to pick up the bags.

But then, Elliot picks up the boxes and bags all at once. "Since I'm done lookin', I'll get 'em. You might have to grab the apartment keys from my pocket though," he winks.

Heat rises to my face, though it's mostly anger. "What happened to 'not making me uncomfortable'?" I growl.

Elliot's smile weakens. "Oh, I-I didn't mean to... Look," he sighs, "I'm never serious; I wouldn't ever make you do somethin'. Though I joke around a lot, yknow?" The smile reappears. "I'll have an eye out for you though, sweet summer child~"

I grumble resentfully, "I'm not naive, Elliot, so don't treat me like it."

He blinks. "Wait, wait, wait. Have you ever _been_ with someone?"

A shocked silence between the three of us. Elliot breaks the silence truthfully, completely red-faced: "Sorry, I re-rum-membered I'm an idiot. I won't ask again, promise." He walks ahead with a quick pace.

Path looks at me and asks innocently, "Are we not all together right now?" I shake my head as I follow forward. Elliot was like a toddler; he may act stupid, but is well-meaning enough so that I could never blame him or stay angry at him.

Because, the truth is, I didn't know the answer. That was just more memories I might never recover.

 

// **the outland oasis** , up-scale bar

My legs weren't used to skirts, or tight ones for that matter. Mirage had offered me a long modest linear grey dress, saying that his favorite bar was a bit classier than we've been to. I really didn't care what I had to do for a drink at that point. I asked how he got a dress and different heels for me to choose from-- he said a "busy night life" tends to cause all sorts of clothes and shoes to pile up. I decided to not ask Elliot much about his night life after all; and I didn't need to. One look at his clean well-designed apartment was all I needed to know Elliot's life was far, far different from mine.

I pat my skirt down as we approach through the open double doors. Pathfinder was in his usual non-attire, except a bowtie instead of a neck scarf. Mirage wore sleek dark pants and a white blouse. I look around the long, mahogany bar as we enter-- "classy" hardly prepared me for how truly elegant the place looks. The lights were dimmed warmly, and the patrons had a soft hum of conversation to fill the wide, tall space.

Elliot smirks at us, "I'll nab some exclusive seats.~" He waves at the bartender. I follow and try to pay attention-- but my gaze passes by a familiar hunched figure, with long blonde hair.

I blink. In the corner of the shadowy room, I saw the back of their dark blazer and the side of a pale face, seated alone at a table. I squint slightly.

I couldn't tell what color eyes they had.

_Bloodhound?_

I take a few steps closer, quietly-- but in vain. "Friend, Elliot is leading us the other way," Pathfinder calls out behind me. I cringe before the blonde figure puts down their drink and stands, and-- without facing me-- begins to leave the room. I take quicker steps towards them.

"Hey, excuse me," I say loudly to the person, and reach to grab their arm.

Against my expectations, they pause and flinch their wrist, grabbing my hand. There was something between our palms. "Do noth _ever_ do that again," their thick accented voice whispers angrily, still turned away-- then, they quickly let go.

They walk away. I blink, feeling dumb and guilty, watching the figure disappear through the corner; I still hadn't seen their face. I hear the boys walk up to me.

"Uhhh," Elliot says, "You know that guy?"

I look at him, blurting, "Do you?" I squeeze one of my hands, holding tightly whatever Bloodhound gave me. It felt like a coin.

"Yeah, totally-- well, no, _sorta_ ," Elliot backtracks casually, "He just comes in here a lot. Or she. Hard to guess to be honest. Real pretty lookin, though." The trickster added thoughtfully, "Y'know, I tried to flirt with 'em once, but they wouldn't even talk to me." Elliot notices my silence and raises a brow at me. "What's goin' on, Wraith?" Pathfinder's pupil whirls in silent curiosity towards me.

I sigh. "I just thought they looked like someone I knew." I pause. I should've known to never approach them so publicly. Why did I think it was any of my business? I shake my head in a lie, "But there's no way."

Elliot smirks. "Well, let's not keep our seats cold. There's even entertainment!"

My eyes widen to the worst possibility. "Elliot, _no_."

Pathfinder cheers with an air fist, "I like to be entertained!"

He laughs heartily, his body quaking. The fire in Elliot's eyes tell me he's completely fired up. "Oohh yeah.~ Trust me, you guys are gonna be in such a good mood after this."

As he leads us off, I peek at the item in my palm. It is a one-sided coin-- it's silver and looks... strange. Unlike anything I've seen.

"Odin," I whisper to myself. I knew very few facts about Bloodhound-- but was this the 'Allfather' they referenced? The more I thought about it, the more I knew that mysterious blonde couldn't have been anyone else but the once-Champion.

My hands begin to feel hot as I sweat. I embarrassed myself in front of the one person who believes I should win, just as much as my own teammates.


	9. [ the bad girls ]

// **bangalore's weaponry** , central market

It's dark at the market now-- doors were shut and streets were empty. Street lights were dim and weak, just another symptom of the Outlands' anarchy. Though, amongst the closed shops, Bangalore's still had lit windows, despite a 'closed' sign.

 _Entertainment_ , he said. By that, Elliot just meant handsome boys and girls to talk to, like some kind of host club-- hardly the stripper environment I expected. I suppose that's why he described it as 'classy'.

Not that it stopped Mirage from getting hopelessly drunk. _What a show-off_ , I smirk at the man's slouched scarred face. Pathfinder nods to me as he carries Elliot's disheveled, semi-conscious body in bridal style-- his face was pressed up and drooling on the MRVN's smiling monitor. "Are you sure you want to go in alone?" The robot asks politely. "Not that I think bringing in Elliot in such a vulnerable state is wise! But I can return to you soon!"

I nod confidently to Path, still in my grey pencil skirted gown. "Yeah. I can handle her." It was a half-lie-- I wasn't actually sure I could win a melee fight with her. But I needed answers about this IMC tattoo of hers. _Personal_ answers.

Path's monitor turns bluer with a sweated emote. "I do not want her to harm you, friend."

I blink, then smile. "Path. Are you worried about me?"

The monitor turns pink. "Of course! If you get harmed outside the Ring, our squad would be... incomplete."

I chuckle softly; sometimes, Path really seemed sweet. Again, I wonder how deeply the robot feels. "I'll be fine, Path. Get Elliot home before something really bad happens to him." The man coughs vomit in the robot's arm, groaning lowly. I smile faintly. "Like more of that."

Path nods slowly, and his lanky legs clank as he walks off. I turn and look back at the tall steel door leading into the store.

My heels clink gently as I step into the cold, metal building. Now that were wasn't smoke and chaos, I could see the store more clearly-- it's plain though well organized within glass counters and tables. Yet, everything seemed to lack any labels or price tags. How did Anita keep tabs on all these weapons?

I hear heavy footsteps from the lit doorway behind the counter. Anita, now in a bulky tank top and cargo shorts, nods at me as she wipes a shotgun shaft with a towel-- but she pauses as she sees me. Her eyes widen immediately before giving a hard laugh. "Dang, girl. If I knew this was a date, I would've looked the part."

I smirk. "The outfit isn't mine. Mirage wanted to go to a nice bar, so I had to borrow it."

Anita scoffs as she sets down the shotgun. "Let me guess; The Outlands Oasis?" I blink.

"Yeah."

She says sharply, "That place smells like a fat rat den to me-- someplace _too_ safe for the beautiful and wealthy. I wouldn't trust anyone that's a regular."

I become tense as I approach the glass counter. "Why not?" I rest my palms ahead of me as I lean in slightly towards her. My eyes gesture to her arm tattoo. "You worked for the IMC. You expect anyone in the Frontier to trust you either?"

She grins slyly, almost as if she pitied me. "You think it _matters_?" Anita gives another low, hard laugh. "I'm not ashamed of my service. I'll never be. People win, people die. That's how war always is." She shrugs. "My people died. The only thing that matters once the fight is over is getting home."

I relax the tension in my arms as I lean back. "Where's that?"

She raises a brow at me for a moment before looking down at the guns beneath the glass top. "In the Core Systems. Whole family served in the IMC, you know. I don't give a fuck what people have to say about it-- they're gonna have to break my spine if they want a reaction out of me."

This woman was harder than nails, and it felt... nice. We truly weren't very different. I stare into her wandering gaze, deciding to get to the point. "You said you'd do something to thank us. I need to ask you questions about your time in the IMC." Anita looks up at me, a guarded frown on her face.

Yet, she says as she crosses her arms, "Yeah? Try me."

I shift in my skirt, leaning my waist on the counter as I cross my arms over the glass.

"I woke up in an IMC facility for the Mentally Ill. No memories-- just injections, experiments, pain. I have voices in my head that know when I'm being seen... they never shut up," I mutter. "What do you know about that?"

Anita gives me a long, blank look. "Those kinds of facilities were used for people that ordinary jail cells couldn't contain-- didn't really matter if you were crazy, though," she smirks slightly, "it was more than often the case." A pause. "You could've been anyone before that facility. A PTSD-stricken soldier. An engineer that saw too much. Hell, even a POW, like a Militia Pilot."

I press, "How do I find out which I was?"

She hums lowly in thought. "You'd have to find the commanding officer of that facility, or maybe the doctors that worked on you. Or find your files, assuming you didn't blow them up on your way out." She gestures at me. "That's what happened, didn't it? 'Cuz there's no way you'd be here otherwise." I keep a cautious stare. Anita sighs. "But I'm not telling you anything you didn't already know, right?"

I nod. "What else can you tell me?"

She gestures inside the doorway. "Come on, those heels must be killing you. Find a seat in here."

While grateful for the offer, the anticipation made me a bit more anxious. I nod slowly before walking around the counters. I slip into the room where I had been punched by Bangalore that morning-- and it was rather fixed up. A rug hid most of the blood stains, and a sofa was properly set against the wall. Pictures were plastered all over a workbench, even some drawings of weapons pinned to various parts of the room. "Cozy," I say with a small smile, thinking about Elliot's interior decorating instincts versus Anita's. "The blood really warms up the space."

She laughs-- a gentler and fuller laugh. "For real though," she snorts, "Makes me feel at home." She sits on one end of the sofa, and offers the other side to me. I sit quietly.

I wait for her to say something, but I realize she's staring at me. "What?" I ask reflexively.

"Nah," she smiles, "You're just pretty. Wish I could call you something besides Wraith."

I flush a bit, fiddling with my hands. I reply more honestly than I expected: "Me too." I feel an ache in my chest. "I only saw 'Wraith' on the monitor when I woke up, then numbers. I wasn't anyone-- not a friend, daughter, lover, human-- but an experiment with a convienent code name." I pause. "Maybe one day I'll give myself another name. But 'Wraith' is all that I am for now."

Anita loses the hardened look in her eyes for a moment. "I don't know what that's like," she admits softly. "My family was always busy with the IMC-- but hell, we _loved_ each other through everything. Losing that..." She shakes her head. "That's the only thing I think about everyday-- that my mother could be mourning her little girl that isn't dead yet." I began to see the pain Anita carrys beneath her rocky exterior-- and the worst part is tears began to tug at my eyes, as I started to feel emotions rising that I had oppressively pushed down.

"I guess I don't know how you feel either. I don't know if anyone misses me," I mutter, wiping my eyes with my knuckles.

Anita smirks kindly. "Hah. Just two bad girls lookin' for home, but can't relate with each other at all. What we gon' do about that?" She offers a dark hand on my wrist, and I let her take it-- she holds my palm in hers. She whispers, "Look. I was never involved in IMC's prisoner operations. The only thing I can do for you is offer my help. You get more evidence, or more info about that IMC facility, you talk to me, alright?"

I nod with an awkward smile. "Alright. Thanks, Anita."

She kisses the back of my hand and winks. "My pleasure." I flush deeply again, and she giggles with surprising feminine flair. "Damn, that's too cute," she sighs happily.

Red-faced, I look away as I laugh nervously. "You don't have to put me on the spot to make me like you." _Why did everyone do that?_

Anita grins. "Oh? So you already like me?" She leans in, a soft, sultry look in her eyes. "How's that?"

I try to keep my confidence as I feel sweat and anxiousness in every part of my body. "I-I don't think there's any reason not to-- just generally." A pause before I smirk. "Besides when you punched me."

Anita laughs, "That made you like me more, didn't it?" She shakes her head, amused before looking back at me with strange understanding in her eyes. "We should do this again."

I smile slightly. "You're easy to talk to. I wouldn't mind." Anita nods with a lit hopefulness in her eyes. I blink and quickly add, "Ah. Actually, let me ask you about one thing."

I take out the coin that Bloodhound gave me-- with the engraving of the bearded man with two wolves. "Do you recognize this?" I ask.

Anita picks it up and looks at it closely with a thoughtful scowl. "Huh." She hands it back to me. "It ain't big here since people like to think of the Frontier as godforsaken, but there are all sorts of religions in the Core Systems-- Odin is the core figure of Nordic mythology." She shrugs. "I'd be careful who you show that too. It's really _particular_ while seeming modest enough. Might be a code symbol for some kind of cult or organization for all you know."

 _A cult_. I start to feel chills about Bloodhound's enigma. Maybe I needed to trust them as much as they trusted me-- but it didn't take away my suspicions of their motives. It didn't stop me from needing to know more answers.

Nobody will keep me in a mouse trap ever again.


	10. [ elliot's wake-up call ]

// **elliot's apartment** , A32 mainland

Path opens a curtain suddenly, as the bright morning light pours into the room and over the hungover Elliot, slumped on the black leather sofa. His ruffled hair shifted over his face as he groans. Elliot's breath was slow and stank of alcohol, but being this close to his sleeping face... he just looked like a scarred puppy. "Hey," I say softly at first, shaking his shoulder. The MRVN placed the trickster on his side over the sofa-- which is good. If Elliot rolled on his back while being _that_ drunk, he could've drowned in his own puke.

"Whatsa?" he murmurs incoherently, "Sweetheart, we can go again later..." He rolls the other direction. I narrow my eyes.

"Alright, wake the fuck up," I say as I slap hard into his back. The man shudders as he wakes up, jolting halfway up the sofa before looking at me.

"God!" Elliot squeals before squinting at us, "No rest for the w-wicked _, I guess_. The heck you guys doin' here?"

I cross my arms. "We have our second round tomorrow. Or did you forget?"

He grunts as he straightens out in his seat, begrudgingly rubbing his eyelids. "Oh shit. Yeah, yeah, I'll make myself a coffee. We'll be in the range in no time, chief."

I sigh as I sit beside him. "You realize that kind of drinking isn't healthy, right? We need you in your best physical shape."

Elliot's chocolate eyes adjust to the light as he sluggishly looks at me. His tall form slouches towards me as he replies with a grin, "What can I say? I'm a party pleaser."

I keep my stare on him, hearing Path's clanking steps in the open kitchen. "Elliot, you don't need to please anyone," I say firmly. His expression seems to sober up slightly. "You just need this team. And we need you if we're going to win."

He rubs his tanned cheek with his palm, then nods slowly. "Sorry, Wraith. I just... got lost in the crowd before I remembered we were gonna talk to Bangalore." He blinks at me. "How'd that go?"

I smile slightly, feeling color in my cheeks at the memory of Anita's sultry expression. "It went fine. I learned a new thing or two, but nothing that gives me a lead on my past."

"Yeaaah. 'Fine', huh?" Elliot playfully pinches my arm. "Oh yeah, I'm sure it went _fine_.~ That chick wanted to eat you up like Leviathan stew.

" _Elliot_!" I snap hot-faced as he bursts in a laugh.

Pathfinder clanks in the room with a steaming mug. "Coffee, friend!" he whirls cheerfully, a smiling emote on his screen.

"Ohh," Mirage cooes as he stands and takes the mug, pointing at the robot approvingly with his other hand, "Now that's a real bro right there. Now who wants to help me take a cold shower?"

Path and I look at each other-- "Not it," "Not me!"  We denied similtaneously. Elliot crackles another mischevious laugh.

"Ahh, this is the best squad, right here," he sighs, raising his mug. "Give me ten minutes, I can shower allll by myself.~"

I raise my brow as he turns towards his bedroom door. "You're saying that a little too proudly."

He smirks at me before entering the doorframe. "Hey, these days, I'm not _usually_ in the shower alone." The door shuts. I sigh, deciding to help clean up the vomit on the floor. Elliot really was like a helpless, stupid puppy sometimes.

A puppy that was really good at killing people in the Ring.

 

// 4 hours later, **the training area**

Path and I were always diligent in the training area. But for a hungover man, Elliot was doing very well. He seemed even more focused than usual-- it was hard to get his attention, even, as if he were deep in thought. After his standard workouts, Elliot's Longbow targets were quickly throughly punctured over the past hour.

I sigh as I put the R-301 Carbine back into the crate. "Alright, let's have a lunch break." Elliot yawns and nods as he puts his Longbow over his shoulder.

Pathfinder grapples loudly towards us, hopping between the approaching Elliot and I. "Allow me! I brought food!" the robot beeps cheerily. I smile.

"Path, you never stop surprising me," I chuckle. "What's on the menu?"

"Smoked cod fish with garlic risotto! A countryside favorite." His screen shows a proud, beaming emote.

Elliot stares. "Dude. Be my roommate."

Pathfinder's pupil becomes large with pride. "I must fetch it from the ship. I won't be long, friends!" With that, the robot clanked happily towards the docks.

I look at Elliot, whose deep eyes seem lost for a while. I ask, "Are you feeling alright?"

Elliot smiles weakly, "Wha? Oh yeah, I'm-I'm fine. Just y'know..." He sighs as he puts the Longbow on a nearby ledge. "Wraith, somethin' has been on my mind since we started teaming up."

"What's that?" I step closer, curious-- Elliot seemed more cautious than usual.

The tall sunbeaten man looks at me. "You don't need to be embarassed or impressed by everyone that calls you beautiful, or notices how great you are. You are absolutely loyal and special-- I just don't want the first guy or gal to see it to blow you away."

I flush deeply, unsure where this was suddenly coming from. "What are you talking about?" I murmur.

He smirks, almost sweetly. "You might've been really experienced before the whole memory wipe, Wraith, but I've been watching ya-- you're an amazing woman with no memory of relationships, or people that could try to take emotional advantage over you."

I watch his deep concerned gaze-- and suddenly, I felt vulnerable again. As if Elliot was seeing through me. I was beginning to see that he was more empathetic and understanding of people than I realized. My hands ball into fists, uncomfortable. "Why are you bringing this up?"

He leans back against a stone ledge, still keeping his eyes on me. There's a long moment of silence before he admits, "Because I don't want Anita to claim you, then break you." He mutters softly, "There, I said it."

I didn't understand why, but I suddenly felt defensive. "Why are you so damn convinced I'll date her?" I growl. "What difference does it make to you?"

Elliot starts, "It doesn't--"

"Clearly, it does!" I snap.

Suddenly, Elliot scowls as he shouts towards me, "Fine! Maybe it does! Maybe, _oh_ , I don't know, I _care_ about my fucking teammate, wandering the Outlands with the life experience of a three year old."

I burst as anger rises to my throat, "A three year old?! Really Elliot? You really think _I'm_ the helpless one?" I scoff, raising my hands up as I walk away. "I am so beyond words for you."

"Hey!" he protests, slapping his hand against the stone to get my attention. I look back at him defiantly-- but his expression wasn't angry. It was... sad. His baritone voice is gentle. "I'm sorry. You're not helpless or naive, that's not what I meant-- but if you get emotionally compromised before we win... it'll be just as bad as if I keep drinking every night. I just want you to be careful. Wraith, I had to say it."

My tight gaze relaxes. I realize... he was right. Elliot was only worried about the same things I was-- being manipulated ever again.

"Elliot," I say softly, feeling ashamed. "I'm sorry. I see why you're concerned."

He smiles slightly. "I realized how much you're looking out for me this morning-- how far you're willing to push us to win. I-I want to do the same for you."

I feel a tide of warmth in my chest. I chuckle, "Thanks; really, Elliot." I smile shyly. "That means a lot."

He smirks jokingly. "Oh yeah, I forgot another thing; I'm _totally_ jealous of Anita getting personal time with you."

I give a wide smile, "So that's it? What a shame-- get some IMC insider knowledge and I'll interrogate you soon enough."

He gives a faux impressed look. "So that's it? Consider it done." He winks. I blush, helplessly.

"Damnit Elliot," I complain before turning around. He giggles mischeviously, whistling as he picks up a different gun to practice.

Path's cod fish needed to get here sooner.


	11. [ second round / test subjects ]

// **slum lakes** , king's canyon

Elliot shouted as he ran past my building, "Wraith! The doorway!"

I snap my aim towards the door behind me, and my Spitfire doesn't fail to secure my 8th kill. The moaning shredded body falls quickly as the smell of gunpowder and metal stung my nose. It distracts me from all of my adrenaline, sweat, and--as Bloodhound predicted--guilt.

The announcer proclaims another squad dead. "Took out the whole squad-- three left," I huff as I open the body's generated loot box. As I rummage quickly for heavy ammo, I briefly wonder how Bloodhound could learn so much about me. It wasn't as if the Apex Games kept tabs on anything about me besides basic information-- do people always stalk those they have faith in...?

"More friends ahead of us!" Path's voice beeps before he sprints from behind me and grapples forward-- quickly flying with the fluid grace only he was known for. I could hear his springed steps clank land across the slum's pipe ditch.

I see Elliot follow Path across as he climbs up the steep walls and onto a building roof. "Yup, I see 'em.~ Northwe--" Suddenly, rapid fire energy shots blare into Elliot's side. I can't see who fired the shots; the view is blocked from the building Mirage was standing on. He grunts loudly as he trips off the roof, and gives a louder howl when his shoulder slams into the concrete.

"Devotion in the northwest, they just got Mirage down," I relay, trying to keep my focus. I jump into the Void as I catch up to the injured Elliot, then reappear behind his crawling body.

"I'll cover you!" Path's voice beeps.

My elbow shoves open the nearby door from the building Elliot fell from. "C'mon, in here," I whisper while looking around. Elliot fumbles as he wheezes in attempt to keep up with me-- he was bleeding out fast. I grab his arms and help drag the limber man inside, then take out my emergency syringe. I could smell Elliot's mint breath and musky cologne this close. My heart begins to pound despite my internal protests. Though he had nothing to say about it-- he's strangely quiet though his body jolts from the sudden injection.

The gunshots outside are deafening. Then, silence. "Took three out-- two squads left!" Path relays brightly.

"What the... how, Path?" I chuckle. That kind of play wasn't terribly unusual for him. Pathfinder's movement almost always got the jump on people.

Then I realize Elliot's eyes aren't looking at me, but searching the room. I could tell something was wrong.

"What is it?" I whisper.

Between the chaos of gunfire, suddenly, I hear several rounds of a shotgun go off nearby. "I am doooWn, friendzss," Path's voice buzzes in our comms.

My brows skew in surprise before I mutter over comms, "Coming for you Path!"

I quickly pull Elliot up after throwing out the injection. Whatever the Games put in those things, it really did work miracles-- flesh materialized over Elliot's wounds. It's no wonder the war between the Militia and IMC took so long with the technology available. Mirage coughs a spit of saliva and blood before gently pushing me aside. "No time-- let's reposition outta here before they find us first," he commands before sending a decoy out a doorway. Elliot didn't normally shotcall, so I knew he felt strongly about this.

And even if I didn't trust him as much as I did, I don't have the luxury of hesitating. I slide out of the building behind Elliot, weaving behind cover for high ground. I see Path's bent arm laid within a peeking open doorway.

 _Traps nearby_ , the voices warns me.

Before I could say anything, Elliot begins gasping as green smokey gas pours out of a canister left around the corner, falling to his knees. I hold my breath and reach out my hand to help drag him out, but he pushes my hand away. There are echoing footsteps near us and I almost draw out my Mastiff; the gas was badly stinging my eyes and skin. "Go!" Elliot calls hoarsely.

I climb up a nearby roof to see where the enemy was-- but, suddenly, a large grip picked me up by the throat, my purple shield crackling under its strength. I wheeze as I'm held over the ledge I climbed, but keep my defiant stare into the hard gaze behind a wide clear mask.

Caustic. I had heard of him-- but never fought him, especially this close. His eyes are lit with genuine interest, and uncomfortable thrill. "I've longed to see you in the Ring, Wraith," his deep voice says fondly. I struggle against his firm arm, fury burning deep within me. Caustic leans his head slowly. "Fascinating. Even as you die, you truly believe you'll live."

I gasp for air before I snarl hoarsely, raising my arm towards him, "I'll play your cat-and-mouse game-- just know I still bite harder." My hand crackles with energy as I slip into the Void, and I'm free from his grasp.

My knees barely feel the pain of the concrete ground they scrape on; there are far more important things at stake. I pick myself up quickly as the blur of infinite dimensions shift the environment around me, and my mind is spinning with possible strategies.

As I dive into the building, I think: why would he bother to pick us off one by one?

He was alone.

I rush onto another rooftop as I grin, laughter in my throat. Between pipes and open doors, I climb atop another building as I reappear into reality. I breathe slow as I crouch still; it's completely silent.

Suddenly, gunshots whirl past my face from below, and Caustic begins an unsettling laugh, like the kind of a father playing a game with their daughter. I dip off the opposite ledge, gritting my teeth. Caustic recognized me too, perhaps even watched my matches. I needed to surprise him-- otherwise, he was going to get more bullets into me first.

I take out my Mastiff, and attempt a strategy that felt foreign to me, while natural to Elliot: taunting. "You're a bit larger in person, Caustic," I shout as I reload the legendary shotgun. "Sideways, that is."

His muffled growl moves to my far left, and I crouch quietly against the outer wall, moving to meet him.

I turn the corner into the doorway. The man's back was facing me as he entered the building-- I shoot my Mastiff, but it only partially hits him as Caustic reacts with surprising speed, diving across the room.

He throws a sprung gas trap between the doorway, and shoots it. Immediately, burning gas fills my nose and lungs; the agonizing sting is felt through my entire body, as if my own blood become poison. He laughs, "Death is inevitable for a lab rat like you, Wraith." I shudder as I dip into the Void again, retreating into another nearby building. My breath begins to stabilize, but I finally feel sweat drips in layers over my face.

His words were alarming, but I couldn't consider them yet. Slum Lakes was filled with tight spaces, and was the worst place to fight Caustic this late in the Ring. I needed him in the open.

With quick and intentionally loud footsteps, I slide towards the waste ditch in the center of the Slums. I yell, "Death isn't a thrill, or even punishment, Caustic." I hear Caustic's boots stomp over the wooden plank platform above me. I slash an Arc Star between the planks-- the grizzled man jumps off the platform, in front of me.

But rather than his back first, he's facing me with an expecting glare and charged Triple Take raised. Chills shoot down my back as we both shoot without a second thought.

The sudden shattering pain in my shoulder and neck became paralyzing; I fall back on my shoulder. The stocky man is knocked back decisively, and the announcer blares the champion music-- Relief floods my tense expression. I smirk as I raise my face to whisper, toward his body: "Death is ordinary, like rain. You aren't _special_."

Then, the Arc Star I threw above me explodes; my vision blackens like an ending dream.

 

// next day, **wraith's room**

Before the dim light, before the familiar smell, I felt my limbs again against my own bedsheets. My eyes shoot open. _Winning_. Was that a dream? Had I merely fallen asleep? I didn't think anyone would be at my bedside; but if I did, I'd expect to see Path, or Elliot. I look over as I sit up.

Bloodhound nods to me, leaned over a turned desk chair to my right. I blink at them, shocked-- they weren't wearing their mask at all this time, while still in their traditional combat gear. Their strong brow was pressed over those brilliant blue eyes. Long blonde hair fell over their shoulders, only blowing slightly from the window's open breeze. Pale skinned with a sharp jawline and relaxed deep peach lips, they looked truly elegant without any sense of their gender. But what made me uncomfortable was how they seem stoic; I couldn't tell if they were glad to see me awake. Their fist rests beneath their chin, casually.

"That wasth close," they give a small smile. The clean sound of their rolling accent made my face feel hot, and I grab the sheets with my hidden left hand.  "Caustic is noth an easy opponent to overcome, even if the rest of his squad has been down'd. Well done, Wraith."

I whisper, "What are you doing here?" Then, with rising anger, "Again?"

They press their lips together, barely any remorse expressed. "I did noth mean to offend you at the Oasis. I simply did not vant attention drawn to me."

I mutter, "You think you can show up whenever you want?" I shake my head. "If you want to be my friend, I need clarity between us. I need to know,"--I have a wheezing cough before raising my heated voice--"... that you aren't just trying to screw with my fucking _mind_!"

Bloodhound's expression softens into something fearful. "Wraith," they say gently.

"No!" Tears start to rip at my vision again, so I look towards my lap. "I can't stop thinking about it, or figure it out: why you'd want to help me, or why you showed up at all." I wave my hand to distract from my face. "Stop-- just... _don't_ try to _act_ like you care. I don't understand."

I feel their warm glove on my lap; I flinch back, flushed red, finding the contact strange. I glare at them. Their face is reddened with a patient gaze as they withdraw their hand. "I-I apologize," Bloodhound said slowly. "It is difficult to explain, but I vill try my best." I stare expectedly. They blink at me as a more shy smile rises. "I remembered you. Before the Games. I vas in that facility too, as a patient."

"What? How?"

They nod. "I suppose I lied to you when we met; I know only a _little_ more than you do. I never saw the experiments or heard of your purpose there. I only remember a girl breaking through every room, screaming to strike fear in our oppressors-- and it working. You freed me in a dark moment when I hath believed my hunt and my purpose was over." I feel dumbfounded-- no, it was beyond that. I couldn't feel myself breathe. They releases a loose chuckle as they make eye contact with me. "You look good vith black hair, Wraith. I saw a glimpse of you when you broke my cell open, powerful and head shaven to the bare skin like the rest of us. I had wondered what it would grow out to."

I rush forward and grab the collar of their suit, my knees still on my bed. "Tell me," I beg, "Tell me more about that place. I... I barely remember anything. It was a blur. I don't even recall seeing you."

Their gloves hold my hands again. "You make this difficult, Wraith," they say lowly.

"Why?" I demand loudly.

"Being this close to you," they whisper as their hand presses my arm soothingly. Their arms twist around my back as they lean forward. I don't resist this time. I blink hot tears from my face as their breath draws closer. I shut my eyes.

I taste their lips, and their oak scent-- I realize how lost I was becoming.


	12. [ blood & illusions pt 2 ]

// **wraith's room** (cont.)

Bloodhound's gloves squeeze the leather on my back. My hands felt frozen, gripping the sheets. I don't know why I let it happen. The kiss wasn't against my will-- but at the same time, though it eases the pain from my chest, my confusion grew beyond heartache. Still, their hot breath somehow gave me the slightest reprieve from the Void in my mind. It was just enough so that I couldn't tell what the voices were saying anymore, though they murmured.

Their tongue grazes my teeth; I gasp softly in surprise, like a girl that's never been kissed before. It might even be true.

Bloodhound lets go of me quickly-- their eyes spring wide open, and our eye contact reveals shared embarrassment. They lean back in their chair, the night shadows being unable to hide the reddish tint of their face. I exhale harshly, realizing how little I was breathing. I wonder how red my burning face was. My gaze quickly shifts to the doorway, hearing the lock click open.

"I would explain... But somevone is here," the hunter whispers. My heart pounds again. It was too late for us to do anything.

Elliot, in his casual khaki and t-shirt, opens the door with a grin as he sees me. I see the whirling wave of Pathfinder behind him.  "Yo! You're--"

The scarred man's expression shifts to a hardened look of confusion as his eyes meet Bloodhound's. "You... No. What? What the hell are you doin' here?" The blonde stays seated, staring back with pressed lips at Mirage. I can tell Elliot's beginning to notice Bloodhound's unusual reddened and flustered state, not to mention my own breathlessness. His brows furrow with growing anger. Even I began to sink back slightly on the bed.

Elliot's palms wipe over his face before he snaps, "Alright, buddy. Give me a fuckin' reason not to kick you off _another_ cliff."

Pathfinder sticks half of his torso into the smaller doorway, peering at the situation. It doesn't seem to phase him as he beeps, "Good evening Wraith! Glad you're awa--!"

I cut in a panic to respond to Elliot: "This is none of your business, alright?"

Elliot's face grows even more skewed as he shouts, " _None_ of my business, huh? How about the time two days ago I warned you about people trying to prey on you, Wraith? Now you're givin' personal time to one of the most psychopathic hunters in the Games? Or that time three days ago when we saw this fuckin face--" he points at Bloodhound, "--at Oasis and you _didn't even tell me_ that you recognized them?!"

Bloodhound opens their mouth to speak, but anger starts to grow in me too. I shout back as I stand up, "You don't know anything about this, Elliot-- calm down and don't make assumptions with me right now."

He raises his hands making a back-and-forth "duh" movement between us. "Uhhh, yeah. I-I had no idea, and that's just the freakin' problem. Look, in another time and another planet, I wouldn't give you crap. But how the hell am I supposed to be chill about you cozying up with an enemy squad?" The man takes a firm step forward before pointing behind him in some vague direction. "Some of us aren't just trying to win for ourselves. So _ap-apa-pera-parently_ , some of us need this win more than you do."

I laugh humorlessly, "You've got to be kidding me." Pathfinder gives a stressed whirl as the lanky robot tries to lean under the doorway to get to us. With gravel edge in my voice, I yell near Elliot's face (still only reaching as far as his upper torso), "How about the time I won the last game for us? Elliot, you really think I haven't earned my spot on this team?"

Bloodhound stands from their seat, saying firmly to Elliot, "Your words carry little value, Mirage. The one you have an issue with is me-- not her. So act like it."

Elliot smirks at them. "Ohhh, trust me, I know. And the one you're interested in isn't Wraith, is it, _buddy_?"

I look between them, my brows pressed. "What do you mean, Elliot?" I ask cautiously.

He crosses his arms. "Now that I've seen this fucker's face, I know exactly what they're up to." He snarls at them with a tone I've never seen Elliot do: "You've been hunting me outside of the games-- I've seen it. I know what kind of information you've been finding out about me." Bloodhound didn't look startled by this. I stare at them, and my gut feeling nearly feels they were expecting this.

I say slowly, "Bloodhound does research on all the Apex Games competitors."

Elliot shakes his head. "Constantly? To the point hundreds of thousands of people feel like they have Bloodhound's eyes on their back? No." He gives a glare to the blonde. "I think they're waiting for something before they take me out. Which, to be fair," he gestures to Bloodhound's symmetric features, "in any other context, I would've happily agreed to sooner."

I look back at the blonde. "Wait. You said you had a specific hunt when we had met-- that if I joined your squad, I wouldn't be in your way. Was it Elliot? Have you been using me?" I demand quietly, maybe fearfully.

Bloodhound's standing posture suddenly seems brittle and delicate. Their intense blue eyes meet mine weaker than before. "My hunts are my own burden. Wraith, I've never lied to you," they whisper. "I never wanted to harm you-- only help your efforts, to thank you."

I feel all of the warmth empty my body. My throat feels dry, and I realize how close I am to losing the Games and my sanity completely. I didn't know what to feel; I could only shut down. "You're fucking with my mind again. Get out." They try to approach me, but my hands envelope with crackling void energy, my survival instincts adding a sharp edge to my voice: " _GET OUT_!"

Bloodhound flinches back. The room is tinted light blue from Path's worried emoted monitor. I silently wonder the next time I'll see Bloodhound's barren face-- they look away to hide their sad, glassy eyes. Guilt and anger sat deep in my chest as Bloodhound leaves through the door, pushing away Path's steel arm.

I sit on my bed again, hands covering my face. Elliot is quiet, arms crossed. I can only hear our breathing, and Path's nervous clicking fingers.

"I didn't ask for this, okay?" I mutter under my palms, each breath heavier than the last. "I didn't know what was happening, I mean, not _really_ \-- I was okay with it at first but..." I pause, finding it difficult to explain my confusion.

Elliot sighs gently before sitting beside me. Path cautiously stands closer to us. The sunbeaten man nods. "Well... How far did you two get?"

I flush again. "We just kissed. We weren't involved or anything until the minute before you guys came in... and they kissed me." Elliot frowned-- I flinch as he lurches over, but I realize Elliot's leaned over, his bent shoulders trembling between his knees. "Elliot?" I say, concerned.

"Oh nooooo," the fully grown man giggles as he sits up again. The trickster gives me a smug look before saying in a sing-song tone, "A kiss?! I'm telling Moooom.~"

I frown, red-faced. "What's with you?!"

He chuckles. "Well, it ain't as bad as I thought. Call me relieved." I raise my brow at him. Elliot shrugs. "Unless you're in love with them."

I blink-- I feel only chaos in my spirit and mind. I slowly answer, "I don't know. How do I know something like that? You said it first: I have no memory of relationships, not even family." Pathfinder blinks curiously at us, leaning in slightly.

He smirks. "Oh, sweetie," he cooes as he pinches my cheek. I glare as he continues, "You'll know. Now, you tell me with your gut feeling-- you think Bloodhound knows how they feel about you?"

I flush again as I think of their gentle gaze and touch. "Yeah," I say hoarsely.

Elliot nods simply. "We'll be here for you, okay?" He suddenly bites his lip before giving a genuine smile. "Wraith. Thank you for securing the win for us. Sorry I, uh, didn't get to say that first." He looks at his lap. "I wanted to. I just..."

I nod slightly. "It's okay, Elliot." He looks at me guiltily. I smirk at the tanned puppy. "We're looking out for each other."

He huffs humoredly, "Yeah." His dark beard widens as he smiles. "So. We came to see if you were awake, so we could finally do a celebration dinner or somethin'."

Path beeps happily, with a bright smile emote, "I have prepared a feast at Elliot's apartment! He even made the mashed potatoes. Though, they're quite terrible."

Elliot rolls his eyes in frusteration, pointing at Path. "Can you believe this guy?" The trickster arrows his hands at the robot as he blurts, "Look, dude, you don't even have _tastebuds_."

"Indeed, however, by all calculations, cottage cheese in potatos seems like a terrible idea," Path beeps curtly.

"That's how my mom makes it, and that's how I make it!!" he cries. "Put _that_ into your fuckin weird ass mashed potato formula."

I smile, though my mind wanders. _Wow_ , I thought in awe. _I truly have friends_.

I hope I won't ruin it.


	13. [ ajay / a tomb, a secret ]

// **bangalore's weaponry** , A32 mainland

The celebration feast had gone well. I even ended up enjoying Elliot's strange cheesy mashed potatoes-- but no part of myself could truly relax. My chest felt like knotted rope, full of stuck, unanswered questions. And Bloodhound left before they could answer any of them. Their mystery gave me a lot of unrest, a determination for clarity.

The next day, I loudly knock on Anita's steel front door; the lit sign says 'closed' despite it being midday. I stand and cross my arms patiently. Bangalore seemed pragmatic and clear-headed. I felt a desperate need for her advice.

My heart and mind have always been a storm I've learned to weather-- but now, it's starting tear at me. I kept thinkng about Elliot's words. Did I love anyone? What could I compare it to? Whenever I think about Bloodhound's taste, I couldn't recreate the comfort I intially felt-- all that was left was fear and cautiousness. Maybe it meant that I wasn't ready to know. I didn't think I'd ask Anita any of this explicitly, but something about her always put my logic in the right place.

I sigh as I begin to step away from the store. I glance around-- a figure walks past me. It's a girl with two pink hair buns and unusual energy in her stance. Her back... It was familiar. My eyes widen in sudden memory. I've seen her white-canvas like shirt before; how quickly it soaked in red when I shot it.

Quickly, I jog up and tap her shoulder. "Hey. You're on Bloodhound's squad, aren't you?"

The girl turns with a guarded expression. Then, to my surprise, she smiles widely me, beautiful pearly teeth against her dark toned lips. "Ain'tcha Wraith?" she asks in an unexpected accent.

I nod. "Can I speak with you?"

Her eyes flare with suspicion, but playfulness. She rests her knuckles on her hips. "I didn't say I was di girl you're lookin' for."

My lips press together. Then, I stumble into my pockets, and pull out the Odin coin Bloodhound gave me. "Look," I mutter roughly, "Your once-champion squadmate gave me this. Does it mean anything to you?"

Her brows raise slightly. Her gaze seems to scan me, as if she could see through me. "Well look at dat... Bloodhound got a lot of nerve," she grins. I stare blankly. The girl tilts her head. "C'mon, follow me.~"

I nod slowly, though immediately the pink-haired girl sprints away. She grins widely as she looks back at me. "You got needles in yuh boots? Move it or lose it!!" She runs faster with a girlish giggle. I've rarely ever met a girl as... energetic as her. Especially in the Outlands.

 

// **abandoned IMC warehouses** , A32 Mainland

It took ten minutes for her to slow down. We passed the market, the mess halls, the pubs and housing... Somewhere in this corner of the A32's civilian area, there was an alleyway between two abandoned IMC warehouse buildings. Nature had begun to reclaim the place. It honestly didn't look too different from the Repulsor in King's Canyon-- except the buildings were far closer together and the alleys seemed narrow between them.

"Aight, slow yuh roll before yuh get shot," the girl calls out before easing into a walk towards the alley.

I begin walking, and look around, confused. "I don't feel like we got eyes on us."

The girl turns and smirks at me, still moving with a hoppity backwards stride. "Nah, not yet. But with pretty face like yours, yuh shouldn't risk it."

I smile shyly as the girl turns back around. "I didn't catch your name," I say as we follow the alley into its dark, shadowy center.

"Lifeline's deh name in deh ring. Just call me Ajay Che," she notes before suddenly stopping, and her hands press against the wall, searchingly.

It's dark, so I couldn't see well what Ajay was doing, but neither could she. The woman shuffles her pockets before a silver glint flickered out of them. "Oopsie," she giggles. "Bloodhound is gon' be so mad if I lost that." She picked up the fallen coin and presses it into the wall with her palm. I blink as, suddenly, a section of the wall lifted up. "Get in 'dere, new gal," Ajay gestures.

 _A cult_. I remember Bangalore's prediction of the coin symbol and I hesitate. "What's in there?" I quietly ask.

Ajay shrugs, playful again. "Yuh gonna have to find out. It's strict policy I ain't talkin 'bout it outside of deh place."

Not the answer I wanted. "I don't think you understand," I growl as I take a few steps closer to her. "I don't just _go_ where you tell me to, even if you brought me this far."

The dark woman blinks. "Trust me, di place is fully--"

I grab her arms and press her against the wall, easily. " _What's in there?_ " I demand in a low hiss. The woman's face flushes red, against my expectations. I start to feel a bit of heat in my face as well, but keep my glare.

Suddenly, footsteps echo loudly from within the secret doorway. I let go of Ajay, taking several steps back, before I unholster the Wingman from my hip and aim between her and the shadowy arch. Ajay raises her hands, but doesn't seem at all worried for her life-- her mouth shows a suppressed smile.

Then, I see Anita. Her white boots gleam as she becomes visible from the doorway's darkness. Her hand gestures downward casually, "Let Ajay go." The tall dark woman smirks almost humorously at me. "Didn't know I'd ever catch you here, Wraith. Bloodhound's hell of a risk taker."

I blink and lower my pistol. Before I could ask, Anita says, "Just don't assume we're all friends. We're more like information brokers." She huffs, "Well, with conflicting interests and a shitty office building."

 

// **scavanger** , underground database in A32 mainland

Knowledge is power in the Outlands, and especially in the Apex Games-- but I never imagined a place like this. I followed the girls down long stairs before we reached a circular, dank room with fans pumping fresh air and a cold breeze into the room. Dark stocky technology are piled in surrounding rows, various signals and button lights flickering inconsistantly, like a intrepid night sky. In the center of the room laid some touch tablets, tables, stools... and a singular coffee machine, plugged in to a floor outlet and sitting on a rickety chair. Cups were placed closely around the edge of the same chair. A simple bump could topple it all over.

"Cozy," I say before raising my brow, walking down the clanking metal steps descending into the room's center.

Ajay smirks brightly at me. "I tell dat pointy hat I outta redecorate, but we need di fans to be runnin', and the space to be spread out enough to prevent from overheatin'."

Slowly, I walk towards the center tables, picking up a glass tablet. I tap on the screen as I ask directly, "Is no one going to tell me what this place is for?"

I hear heavy steps as I try to use the tablet. Anita sits down in front of me, across the table. "Hey," she snaps. I look up to her. Anita's expression seems unusually strict. "When you showed me that coin, I didn't tell you about this place. But now I did-- wanna know why?" I nod. Her brows furrow. "Because nobody that we can't kill gets to know."

I narrow my eyes. "You haven't answered my question," I snap.

Anita smiles slightly as she leans back in her chair. "I just need you to understand that we don't take this shit lightly. The hunks of plastic in this room are almost worth more than the Games themselves." She gestures to the room. "The database is known as Scavanger, and was started by Bloodhound. You already know they kill for "the hunt", to glorify their gods and build their own merit-- but their own information, as precise as it was, wasn't enough. They even needed more. Bloodhound needed to bargin out of people. The Scavenger is Bloodhound's ultimate bargining chip. Only people who give Bloodhound exactly what they want can get access to it-- it's explicit access to all of their recordings about not just competitors, but also the Militia, the IMC... you name it. Whatever could possibly benefit a hunt."

My fists flinch in anger as I think about Bloodhound possibly using my emotions to gain information about me, or about Elliot... but I put that feeling aside. I look between them, while Ajay is leaning on the table and boredly twirling a syringe with her index finger. "So you're both in debt to them?" I ask.

Anita chuckles, "Nah. I'm just sitting on a _fat_ good deal, and I'm not gonna risk my biggest pull for a newbie, as hot as she might be."

I smirk slowly. "It's _almost_ cute how you think you can finish me off."

Ajay giggled as she hugs Anita's shoulders-- which Anita did not seem to enjoy at all, rolling her eyes in the process. The pink-haired girl gleams, "I played di cards safe from deh start. Why do ya think I brought'cha while deh guard dog was here?~" The girls look at me with their attentive almond eyes; they were almost aggressively cute, and I feel on the spot.

I joke like a discount Elliot: "For a good time?"

Bangalore grins widely. "Hah. Ajay _wishes_."

The peppy girl's face pinkens until she blurts, "Yuh act like I'm in love with everyone, but cheerleaders just never get deh respect they deserve," she pouts, pushing Anita away harshly.

Anita laughs, "You're just so damn _soft_ all the time. Except," she corrects herself, "I don't know who the hell you are in the Ring. You're inconsistantly bloodthirsty, Ajay. Look at Wraith-- she'd kick ass at any hour of the day."

Suddenly, the door opens from above, along with heavy clanking steps. I hear familiar filtered breathing begin to echo the room, and my heart races. "Well, explore while you can," Anita says casually before picking up a glass tablet. "Just know if your lips get loose, we'll still know how to kill you before you figure out how to survive." She flashes me a last smile, as if she told me to have a good day, before she starts looking over the tablet again.

I take a seat in the chair, avoiding looking at the new presence. My mind feels dizzy, thinking about Bloodhound's breath and lips-- what did it awaken inside me? I was becoming more comfortable with people's flirtations, even if I didn't understand them.

The steps draw closer. I stare intensely at the tablet in front of me, clicking everything and anything to seem distracted.

Closer. Were they walking towards me? The steps reach uncomfortably close right behind my chair, stopping. I still don't look up, red-faced and heavy breathing.

But my imagination had jumped too far. I began to miss the comfort of having Elliot and Pathfinder nearby. The blood drains from my face immediately as I hear the deep voice growl into my ear: "I found the lab rat."


	14. [ anita's advice / elliot's offer ]

// **scavanger** , database (cont.)

Elliot had a way of commanding the room-- the trickster could easily redirect people's attention anytime he pleases. The thing is... attention feels so intense to me, I can barely stand it most times. Caustic's close and seething voice rises goosebumps on my neck, despite how pissed off he made me.

I barely turn my head to the large scientist before hissing back, "Get that close to me again, and I'll make sure you don't come back this time." Ajay looks at us cautiously, though Anita only raises an eyebrow for a moment. Something told me Anita wasn't worried about me, and that felt like a strangely good compliment.

The filtered voice replies with pride, "Now, now, dear lab rat-- the tests aren't over with you yet." He circles around. Caustic, in his gas mask and a lab coat getup, sits at the end of the table, looking at me as if I were a prized goat.

The Outlands had plenty of people hollow of kindness: they seem empty, barely interested, and lacking pity or empathy. But Caustic is none of these. His deep gravely voice seemed interested, awake, and intelligent; yet, he seems just as demented, narssasistic, and fragmented. Perhaps the most out of the cruel people I've met.

Though, to my surprise, the scientist's experimental fumes didn't cling to his outfit. When he was a few inches away, he smelled familiar. Clean, like fresh linen. I start to feel like I've known him someplace else-- but it didn't give me any comfort.

Bangalore kept looking through her glass tablet, almost boredly. "Alexander, we're not in the Ring. Take that gas mask off, you fuckin' creep." I smirk as Ajay bursts out into a loud snort-giggle.

Caustic glares at the girls. "You do not live on the brink of life and death as I do." He glances at me with a knowing smile. "Most of you." Another chill in my spine.

"You know nothing about me," I snarl. "I don't care what this dirty database might have to say about me."

"Ah," Caustic says with an understanding nod, "You believe that my certainty about you is based from the loose doctrines and vague descriptions of a religious lunatic. Since, after all, not even Scavenger has found other official records about your life. If that's the case, let me quickly re-educate you." His cheeks lift as if he smiled. He looks down at a glass tablet, shifting through information as he spoke. "I am a scientist. I experiment, recognize, and collect data. At first, I thought you were another rat, ready for the purpose of your experiment-- ready to meet your end. But now I have tested you. I see you have another purpose, and your experiment has not ended yet." He raises an amused gaze. It feels sickening. "So lab rat, keep following that maze of yours. I look forward to seeing the results."

I give a confused look between Ajay and Anita. Anita gives a little circle motion around her temple, silently telling me the man was out of his mind... as if I needed anyone to tell me. The spunky pink haired girl pops a stick of gum in her mouth before winking at me. "Well won'tcha look a'det? The nice guy of the Games wished ya luck."

"I guess so," I agree before crossing my arms, watching him with a hard glare.

Caustic puts the tablet aside as he stands again. "I am Alexander Nox outside of the Ring." His eyes rest on me-- and suddenly, his voice growls softly, "One day, you will remember that."

Now Ajay and Anita are staring at me. I blink at him.

But I let him walk away. His heavy steps clank up the metal stairway. I was always vicious when it came to learning about my past... but suddenly, I didn't even want to know what he meant. I got cold feet. I wanted to vomit.

As the door opens and shuts, Anita puts down her tablet. "Don't worry," she smirks at me before her eyes roll, "It's his life purpose to freak people out."

I look at her, feeling tiredness in my spirit. "I'm sick of people trying to get a reaction out of me," I say firmly, quietly. "I just..." I shake my head. "I just want to live. I want to feel free. I can't tell who's trying to use me anymore." Somehow, I dive deeper into my concerns with Bloodhound without fully meaning to. I add in frustration, "Look, I don't want to get too philosophical with you guys... But what's the point of living if I feel like a test subject?"

Ajay's expression relaxes, warm concern in her wide eyes, but her mouth purses, nervous to speak. The dark, built woman beside her leans into the table. Anita gives me a kind look. "Hey. Look, I know I was busting your ass when you got here, but I'm a soldier with the duty to get home. I needed to get across how important this place is." I nod at her.

"With that said," Anita continues, relaxing her elbows on the table, "you gotta remember life's kinda like a giant test run. We _don't_ get a second chance for almost everything. Hell, I'm not a scientist... But if I were, it'd be pretty nice to pretend my rules have any control over reality."

Ajay hums, "That's not how deh science works."

"Sure, but we made up rules for everything. They just haven't been proven wrong." She shrugs. Anita starts looking at me, but it feels like she's looking miles away, as if her mind were playing a video I couldn't see. "Test subjects are meant to progress, yeah? But life isn't about progression. People die for no reason all the time. It's a lot more fucked up. Sometimes, just moving forward isn't enough to get you where you're goin'. You gotta find out what really drives you anywhere."

I reply as I tilt my head, "What's that for you?"

Anita smiles confidently as she becomes alert again. "Nobody in the Frontier is as damn good at aiming and positioning as me-- and I'll prove it. Then I fly home and hug my momma til all our tears have dried out."

"Then what?" Ajay asks curiously, gazing up at the woman cutely as her chin rests between her hands.

Anita sighs. "Don't know. Don't care-- not yet. But that's all the gasoline my tank needs to get moving."

I smile slightly. The more I think about it, the more I suppose she had a point. Perhaps my raw need to survive couldn't get me where I wanted to be anymore-- it saved me from the institute, perhaps it keeps me in the Ring, but I don't know how to sustain a life as a free, stable woman. I'm drawn to this blood sport because it grapples with what I knew best: survival. But if survival wasn't my true drive, what would it be?

 

 

// **elliot's apartment** , later that night

I left the Scavenger with a lighter weight on my back. Though I hadn't ran into Bloodhound like I hoped, I was glad I sought out Anita's advice... even if it took me nowhere I expected.

But I only spent an hour browsing the database because Elliot sent me a message through our holo communicator-- a gimmick he insisted to give our squad early on. Back then, really, I knew he just wanted us to see his figure when we'd communicate. I wasn't a fan that the circular device would summon a small projection of our entire body at the time of recording. It meant I couldn't multitask at all. Why should I be fully clothed every time I simply try to remind the squad of practices?

While Elliot was usually both giddy and casual with his messages, this one had seemed unusual. Nervous, even. "Hey, uh," the projection started with Elliot rubbing his hair. "Crazy mashed potatoes, right??" He paused, and his posture slumped as he shook his head, "Oh, that's not how I wanted to start that." His shoulders puffed suddenly as he beamed a smile, "Yeah, so, I need to talk with ya. If you're not busy or nothin'," he chuckled awkwardly. "I'll probably be at my apa-perat-aparmt... room. Just hit me up." I heard him whisper 'damnit' beneath his breath before the message hung up.

We hadn't really spoken about what happened with Bloodhound since... well, since it happened. As I reach Elliot's floor in his housing building-- far better lit and cleaner than mine-- I still couldn't guess what else he'd want to say about it, if he did at all.

I approach and knock on his tall metal door. "Elliot, it's me--"

Immediately, the door opens and I blink wide-eyed. Elliot was in casual clothes, pale jeans and a black tshirt-- but his eyes have so much anxiousness or energy, he seems almost on the edge. "Hey!!" he grins, "So like, come in or somethin'."

I frown slightly. "Elliot, everything okay?"

"Oh yeah, everything's fine," he breathes as he lets me in. "Just great."

"Alright, now I don't believe you." I smirk as I walk towards the bar stools near his high kitchen counter. I take a seat. He shuts the door and leans his crossed arms over the dark countertop, looking at me with an unsure look. I roll my eyes. "Seriously, what's going on?"

Elliot smirks like a kid that couldn't hide it any longer. "Wanna go on a date?"

I gape at him. For a moment, my mind doesn't compute what he's asking of me. Silence.

He laughs awkwardly, "Okay, okay, more like... A date thats not a _date_. But is a date! But doesn't mean it's a _date-date_." He pauses and murmurs, "Date? Date. It sounded normal a second ago."

I manage a frown as heated shyness starts to rise in me. "You aren't making sense. Am I doing something to make you think I need a date?"

He reddens and blurts, "Yes-- wait, no! It's just-- Okay, let me start over." The man stands straight and takes a deep breath, hands on his hips. He sways casually as he clarifies, "I think you need experience. With dating. And who's better to teach you than the master?" He glints a grin.

"You just stumbled through this entire conversation to ask me this," I point out with a smirk.

He groans with his face in his hands, "Hey, I've never asked a girl-- who I respect very much-- on a date that's not a _date_." His hands lower onto the countertop as he leans in with a small smile. "I wanna help, okay? 'Cuz you're a little... dating infant that's being chased by wolves, and you're learning how to sprint, and you could get hurt if you don't know what to expect." I cross my arms, though secretly amused by the analogy. "Just please," his puppy eyes peer as he whimpers, "don't make me ask again, because the word is actually weirding me out right now."

I chuckle. I didn't understand it, but his effort was really touching. So I prod. "Why?"

"Well, I just said it like more than ten times--"

"No," I roll my eyes, "Why go on a date to teach me? You could just give me basic advice. Hell, even just send me a pamphlet."

Elliot strokes his beard. "Well," he chimes, "It's not the same. Day-thing-- _oh my god_ \-- dating is totally your own thing, like how combat is your own thing. Sure, some basic guidelines can help. But nothing can really prepare you for it. You just gotta do it."

I shrug, feeling unable to compare apples to oranges like Elliot could. "I'll take your word for it. When and where do we go?"

He smirks. "You strike me as the kinda woman that doesn't get surprises very often."

I start, "Well I hate surpr--"

The trickster winks slyly. "Ohh, I know, but not this time. So come here tomorrow evening. Wear whatever you want."


	15. [ her first date ]

// **wraith's room** , past midnight

I wake up under my dark bed sheets, sweating-- my throat feels sore and hoarse from a night of stressful breathing.

It was just another nightmare about the IMC; my arms and legs were binded as injections were slid under my flesh endlessly, helplessly. I shiver. It should be comforting waking up alone, but it was also a reminder of the state IMC left me in.

Then, I start remembering: Elliot just asked me on a date several hours ago. I didn't know what to wear. I still had the grey gown from when he took us to the Oasis, but he wasn't going to take me there. Right...?

I sigh heavily as I sit up. Why did I agree to a date that's not really a date? I'm hiding a new secret from him-- the Scavenger--yet I even was _relieved_ when he asked me for time together. Maybe I didn't want to feel helpless any longer. I needed to know what it meant to be romantically interested in someone else. Even when Bloodhound kissed me, my heart clenched-- I realized I'm so afraid to ever give anyone else access to my happiness. I worked too hard to get this far.

What if I started relying on anyone, emotionally? Did I already? Anxiousness starts to make it harder to breathe.

I reach to the bedside table drawer. After shuffling around, I grab the plastic radio and put on a calming song before attempting to sleep again.

 

// **elliot's apartment** , next afternoon

Somehow, despite hours of self-debate, I ended up in black slacks and a tight black blouse. It seemed formal enough, while mobile in case we were going somewhere unexpected. And, honestly, I didn't have many other choices, nor did I know how to shop for more. Picking new near-identical boots a few days ago was an ordeal enough. I briefly think about the market, and meeting Anita. _That_ _already feels like eons ago._

I knock Elliot's door, and open my mouth to announce myself-- but no sound comes out. I stutter as I force myself, "H-Hey. It's Wraith." _Wow_ , I press my lips sheepishly. _I really am nervous for this not-date_.

Elliot opens the door after a few seconds this time-- the warm interor lights scatter around his tall, confident figure. I find myself scanning down at his outfit. A dark navy button down shirt with sleeves rolled to his biceps, with well-fitted belted jeans and dark shoes. The colors had a comfortable buttery tone against his tanned skin. He looks honestly... perfect.

The man grins before he growls playfully. "Heyy.~ Are you checkin' me out right now?" He spins for me with whimsical flair. "It's even better in the back."

I flush red-- the worst part was that he wasn't wrong. Mirage's curvy backend had its own fan club in the Outlands. "I'm just realizing how underwhelming my look must be," I say quietly.

Elliot smirks before saying reassuringly, "C'mon, you're always beautiful. I've said it before didn't I?"

"Elliot, no... It's just I've never worried or cared about how I look," I smile. He blinks. "Being a free woman and knowing who I am was my first priority always." I nod a bit as my gaze wanders. "I guess it's never mattered to me until now. This is the really first time I'm starting to think about it." I shrug as I look down at my getup. "If I _am_ ugly, which I admittedly doubt, I don't really care. I'd just feel bad that you'd have to be seen with me."

"Heh... Silly girl," he says brightly, "I don't need to impress anyone else. Come on in already.~" He gestures me inside.

I walk in cautiously and realize his apartment smelled cleaner than usual... the light were a tone warmer, and the kitchen had boxes of delivery food ready for us. Then, there are strange, colorful boxes on Elliot's coffee table. "What's all this?"

Elliot's voice drifts to the open kitchen. "Dating isn't all about flexing your restaurant picks, you know.~ I wanted you to be comfortable so I thought we'd spend the evening in here. You hate crowded places anyway."

I look back at him, impressed. "You _really_ thought this out."

The tall silverware shelves are easy in his reach, and the navy cloth stretches across his muscled broad shoulders as he grabs them. I stare away at the counter, my hands starting to get sweaty. Elliot replies with a smile as he puts down the plates, "I just notice things about people pretty well. I mean, like I said, I'm the master at this."

"What if you grossly overestimated my love life and my future dates suck?" I joke.

He shrugs, placing the aluminum food containers near us. "Guess you'll have to come back to me.~" He looks at me mischeviously. I frown, red-faced. Elliot chuckles with easy lit eyes, "Alright, you _gotta_ be more prepared for the flirting. It's a date, sweetheart. Even though seeing ya get flustered is freakin' adorable."

"Do I have to flirt back?" I ask, even hotter-faced, unsure about the rules of the date.

"If you want to-- heck, you don't gotta do anything." He leans over the countertop with a small smile. "But if I make you uncomfortable, you let me know as always, yeah?" I nod timidly. For some reason, this makes Elliot stifle a hard giggle. "Oh my gooood, Wraith," he laughs, muffled into his hand, "You're _sooo_ nervous."

"No-- okay, yes, _fine_." I squirm as I sit in a bar stool. "Obviously, I have never been in this situation... And _obviously_ you've done this millions of times. Sorry if my ignorance is surprising," I huff.

He tilts his head in thought. "Imagine it like having friends." He opens a box of food-- it smelled like cinnamon, peppery, but absolutely pleasant. "Each friend is completely different from the next. Having lots of friends might make it seem like you're fluent at friendship, when really, you have to start from scratch with every person." He offers the box to me with a serving fork. "I'm not making assumptions about you, Wraith. I don't compare you to all my other friends, and none of my past friendships can compare to yours. I only see how you react to me-- that gives me all the information I'd need to know. I'm starting from scratch." He smirks. "So start from scratch with me."

His explaination did comfort me, despite not exactly having much experience with friendship outside him and Pathfinder. "Okay." I think as I take the steamimg box and place it between our plates. "There are things I want to know about you."

"Try me," the scarred man smiles, arms crossed over the tall counter.

I say slowly, "When you burst into my room and... saw Bloodhound and I, you were angry and said something about not winning the games for yourself. Who are you fighting for then, if not upkeeping the fame and glory?"

Mirage leans back with a serious look and a musing 'hmm.' He nods, "You might already know that my mom invented the holo-pilot technology." I shake my head. His eyes perk insultedly. "Wait, you didn't??"

I frown, "You never told me. Why would I?"

He pouts, "Man, that's just Apex Trivia 101 at this point.~ Well, anyway," he smirks briefly and continues, "my brothers died in the wars against the IMC. It was... hard on us, especially my mom. And I knew," he shook his head, "too many people died in that war. Nobody else would really r-remember my brothers. I guess I dreamed a bit about getting famous through the Apex Games; putting my name and face out there, and, maybe, my brothers' impact on me would be seen by everyone else. Make 'em seen in the universe for a little while longer, like they were still in it." He glances around the room as he sighs. "Didn't want to upset a mom that lost the rest of her children to guns and warfare, so I didn't really bring it up... She found out anyway. And gave me my suit to chase the dream."

I whisper, "I had no idea, Elliot. I'm so sorry for your loss." I pause. "Your mom must really care about your happiness. And you have a rather secretly noble goal, I think. But isn't being self-absorbed your whole persona?"

He raises his brow, "C'mon, everyone puts on their warrior face in the Ring, even you. In the real world, we're real people. I would _never_ be here without my mom and brothers." He pauses, staring at the open containers of food. "Oh crap. Let's eat before it gets cold, yeah?"

 

// hours later

The food was unbelievable and delicious. Spicy 'noodles' is what Elliot called them... I'm still convinced he's making up that word. No real food has a name like 'noodles'. He also introduced me to 'board games', the colorful boxes he placed on the coffee table. It seemed like easy, stupid fun over some coffee.

I don't think I knew how seriously I'd take them.

"That's bullshit." I frown at his dice roll, giving him the number he needed to win. I'm sitting on the sofa, my face between my hands as I lean over my knees towards the table.

Mirage, sitting legs stretched and relaxed on the floor, laughs as he triumphantly places his little figure over the board's marked finish line. "Hey, I'm a lucky guy." He smirks and blows a kiss at me. "Just look at my date.~"

The heated dizzy feeling hits again. To distract myself, I rush, "Did you and your brothers play these?"

Elliot's smile turns more somber and nostalgic as he looks over the board. "Yeah," he admits. "I honestly sucked at them, compared to my brothers. I used to think I'd beat them one day. Days came and went, then it was too late." He pauses before he looks at me sadly, with a faint smile. "But that's just me bein' honest-- not to be a downer."

I start to regret asking him. "I didn't mean to make you relive anything," I say softly.

"Nah," the slouched man grunts as he starts to stand up, "I've had a lot of time to relive it, y'know." Now standing, Elliot holds out his hand to me with a curious grin. "Ever been dancing?"

"No... I thought we weren't going out," I reply cautiously, taking his hand. The touch felt strange; I breathe slowly.

His other hand grabs a nearby remote that I hadn't noticed. Suddenly, the light dim, and [I begin to hear soft music play.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=07M701waMEU) It starts surprisingly gentle. He pulls me to the center of the room. "We're stayin' right here. Put your other hand on my shoulder and follow my steps, alright?" He smiles gently. I nod shyly, and do so. He puts his other, wide hand on my back as he directed me with his gripped hand over mine.

It took a few moments, but eventually, we're stepping in rhythm-- Elliot slowly speeds up his movement, then we were dancing. I forget to speak. I didn't feel anything else in that moment but the music and him. The voices in my head always hummed in different ways, but it feels as though even they sighed.

Then, I look up at him as he directs our clutched hands side to side. "Why did you invite me to a not-date?" I ask under the music. "What's the real difference between this and a real date?"

He chuckles, "I figured you'd be less nervous about a not-date, as you put it."

I blush. "So is this a real date?"

The trickster shrugs innocently. "Is it?"

"You tell me," I frown. "Even though... words are cheaper for you, anyway."

Elliot blinks, and I feel his breath on my face. "What do you mean?"

I look away, feeling dizzy again. My hand feels sweatier in his. "You always say... _things_. Things I could never say. You can't actually mean them all the time."

Suddenly, his voice gets low. "Hey, look at me."

I peer at him. His dark wavy hair drapes over his scarred, kind expression. "You're just not used to it. You woke up in a place where nobody was tellin' you the truth-- and the truth probably wasn't even great." He smirks. "Tell me what you're worried about and I'll tell you how I genuinely feel about it."

"Alright, let me go down the list," I smirk back. "When we met, we were in line at the Apex registration office." Elliot laughs quietly in familiarity, still swaying on beat to the song. "Then, you looked at me and said, 'I'll be on whatever squad she's on.' We didn't even _know_ each other-- why would you jump on a stranger's squad?"

"Wraith, you had already made a name for yourself in the off-season matches," he smirks. "I was just trying to get your attention so we could team up for real. I knew you were good already. So, yes, I did mean it."

"What about the time in the range? Something about seeing under your buckles?" I say accusingly between a smile.

His smile turns a bit more sheepish. "Well, uh, I meant that too. But y'know, I was still learning where you were at comfort-wise and all that... That's why I apologized for that."

"And the time you said you were jealous of Anita?" I could honestly keep going with the amount of Elliot one-liners I had doubted at this point.

He laughs, "Damn, girl, I'm gettin' grilled." He looks at me, a bit of reddish color on his dark olive skin. "Alright, alright. I was a _little_ jealous."

"But why? You can get almost any girl or guy in the Outlands," I shrug.

This time, Elliot looks at me dumbfounded. His eyes wander the room as his touch feels lighter. His lips slacken as he murmurs, "You know... I never thought about it." His face seemed pinkish now-- or maybe it was the light. I was envious that his dark tint could hide his embarassment better than my pale skin could. "I just, uh..." I stare at him, waiting. He glances down at me nervously before chucklng, "Wraith, I really don't know."

I blush, but I became determined. "So I'll ask again: why didn't you ask me on a real date? If there isn't that big of a difference, as you claim."

Elliot's palm begin to feel extra sweaty in my hand, and his posture seems to stiffen slightly. "I..." he starts, wide-eyed. "I just didn't think you'd ever want a real date with me."

I blink. "What?" Without any doubt in my mind, his face starts to redden deeply. I was shocked-- why would Elliot ever second-guess himself? That seemed more unlike him than anything else.

"Y-yeah," he says quietly, lacking his usual beaming confidence, "I just didn't think you'd ever see me like that. I was pretty resigned to helping you as a friend." The song starts to end. I stare into his restless chocolate eyes, still grasping his shoulder and hand.

"Why would the famous Mirage ever think he couldn't earn a girl's heart?" I say teasingly.

He shrugs shyly. "I guess I realized the ways I needed to be better." He smirks at me, his gentle chocolate eyes gazing through the dimmed lights. "I don't know, Wraith... For once, I don't feel like I have an answer to that yet."


	16. [ pathfinder ]

// **elliot's apartment** , the next day

I hadn't meant to stay over; I just didn't realize how late it became. After we danced, the date didn't feel over yet. Elliot brought out a coupledrinks. We talked about his family, the Games, and anything else until I barely kept my eyes open. The last memory I had of last night was Elliot getting up from the sofa to change songs.

I wake up sluggishly, my view peeking from my forearms. I shift upwards from the red sofa end, and suddenly a cold breeze falls down my back. Instinctively, I pick up the blanket that had fallen off me-- and then realize that it was there. Elliot's bedroom door was closed, though I hear the shower running. What time did I fall asleep? What time was it now? Bright daylight peeked through the tall shut window blinds. I slowly wrap the warm grey sheet around me, glancing around the empty room-- hollow booze bottles and take-out containers included.

The front door starts to click open. I start to sit up properly as I see a familiar lanky blue robot peek through the doorway. I chuckle as my palm presses over my heavy eyes, still sleepy. "Oh, Path. Hey."

Pathfinder walks in with a yellow smile on his screen, his head whirling as he looks through the room. "Friend, I found you! Sooner than I expected!" Then, a question mark. "Did I miss a squad meeting?"

I open my mouth slowly as I glance around. "Oh, not at all," I reply. "Wasn't a date--" I groan as my palm hits my nose, "I mean, it wasn't a squad meeting. Elliot was doing a personal favor for me." To be fair, I still don't know which it was: a date or a favor.

"A favor? I _love_ doing favors, especially for friends! Can I help?" The tall robot jumps cheerfully, an enthusiastic grin on his monitor. I smile. Path's eagerness was so unrestrained sometimes.

"It's, uh... nothing to worry about," I nod, glancing at the open mess of food from last night. Putting aside the blanket, I walk over and start to put things in the retractable trash from Elliot's cabinet. "Anyway, why were you here, Path?"

"I was kicked out of my charging closet! I greatly injured the landlord--" A frown sinks on my face. "--but apparently they had _another_ human in charge of them. Now they expect me to move out. So, to avoid complications, I wanted to ask you guys if I can move in!" Path says almost proudly, lanky arms on his hips.

"Path, you can't just try to harm or kill humans that make your life inconvenient," I sigh, picking up more dirty dishes. "You're great at making friends. Don't try to make enemies."

Path's pupil dilates. "You think I'm great at making friends?"

I blink. "Yeah. I mean, you're the first person that I've started to trust, even before Elliot." I shrug and smile before running the sink and starting to scrub down the plates. "Your optimism is a _little_ much, but at least I know you mean it."

Path nods slowly before a bright smile with hearts shows on his screen. "I appreciate that, friend. I won't let you down." His pupil lowers. "Allow me to wash that!"

"No, it's alright," I insist, "I have to repay Elliot for the favor." A door starts creaking open.

Elliot smirks with his freshly washed hair, draped over his face and neck with surprising length. I suppose that's what wavy, near curly hair does. He wore casual clothes, dark jeans and a maroon shirt. "You gotta repay me, you say?~" he teases, leaning on the doorway. "What if I don't want ya to be washing dishes?"

I blush, beginning to feel my fingers getting clumsy against the dishes. "You're going to have to put up with it," I grumble as I lower my eyes, "Unless you want something reasonable."

"Gimme a good morning kiss?" Elliot says playfully, his hips swaying with pride as he approaches us.

I glare before I realize how I could get back at him. I smile, putting down the sponge in my hand and turning off the sink. "Alright. Come here."

Elliot suddenly pauses and flushes red. "Wait, what? T-that worked?" He glances between me and Path. "Like... now?" I glance at Path, who seems to be equally confused. His monitor has several question marks.

I stare back at Mirage and lean over the counter slightly, chest-first. "You offered first," I purr, "Don't make me wait."

Elliot's movement seems suddenly stiff as his wide-eyed expression made his way around the counter and beside me. I get on my toes as I lean in to his face. He leans in.

I flick his cute nose, almost feeling bad about it. "Got you." I whisper before giggling. It's only fair the trickster gets tricked once in awhile.

"Ohh, I see," Mirage growls, grabbing his nose, before he folds and holds his knees while howlering a laugh. " _Ohhh_ _no_ , woman. You don't know what you've just started!"

Path raises his hand. "Friends!! I want a good morning greeting too!" he beams.

I smile amusingly. I could tell the robot just wanted to be included. "Alright, Path, lean down." He obeys diligently, even though he's still tall enough to make me work for it.

I jump and grab his shoulders, then lift myself enough to give a swift kiss to the side of Path's head. Elliot looks at me with cartoonic betrayal as I land on my feet. "Come _on_! The robot gets a real kiss?!" the puppy whines.

Path's screen is pink, then green, then blue, then pink again, with a smug smiling emote. The emotes switched so fast, I couldn't tell what was really going on. I chuckle at the MRVN unit, "You alright?"

"Yes, friend! Friend!" Path repeats strangely, before whirling with his usual ethusiasm, "I am great! If you looked at how positively my personality board feels, you'd see all sorts of numbers indicating it is highly positive."

"Can't fathom why, pal," Elliot grumbles, crossing his arms.

I smirk between the boys. "Maybe it's because Path is going to be your roommate."

"Yeah-- what?" "Oh, exciting!!" Elliot and Path say simultaneously.

The tanned man suddenly waves his hands dismissively. "Nooo way that's happening. What, is our _hunk of metal_ suddenly homeless?"

"Actually, yes!" Path replies cheerily. "I am completely without another place to go!"

Elliot groans loudly, whispering under his breath, 'oh no.'

I shrug. "The other option is Path staying at my place." Elliot scowls, clearly disliking the idea. I say slyly, "Didn't you _want_ Path to be your roommate?"

He sighs, "Well yeah... I was joking because he makes great food all the time."

Path beeps, "I can make great food for you here! As thanks for me staying!"

The stubborn man raises a brow to Pathfinder. He groans, "Well... I guess it might make up for being unable to bring anyone home for awhile..." He walks past me and points into the lanky robot's arm. "But this is temporary! Alright?"

Pathfinder squeals, "This is awesome! Thank you friend!!" He raises his hand for a high five. Elliot crosses his arms.

I gesture to the lingering metal hand. "Look at him, Elliot. Just this once."

His dark messy hair rolls back as he looks to the ceiling and shuts his eyes for no apparent reason. Then, he raises his hand.

Path gladly high fives him, making a clinking sound. "Yay!!! We will be great roommates, friend," the robot beams.

"Only the best," Elliot sighs, shaking his head. "We'll lay down some ground rules, bud. Oh, right... We got squad practice later today too," he glances at me.

I nod. "I'll head to my place to change, maybe grab food before we head out. You boys have fun." I wink, maybe for the first time. Elliot's humor really was rubbing off on me-- he even chuckles.

"Cya Wraith," he smiles warmly.

Path gives me an overly energetic wave, as expected. "Bye friend!!"

I laugh quietly before giving a slight wave, moving between them. A moment later, the front door opens and shuts, and I'm in the hallway.

I lean back on the door and release a sigh. My face reddens. Who the hell am I? Did I really just out-tease Mirage? Was that... flirting? It felt playful. It felt fun. Or was it just a new extension of our friendship? Playful and fun is what Elliot was all about.

I couldn't wrap my logic and reason around it. Though Path seemed a bit odd today. Maybe I had never really spent much conversational time with him before-- when we arrived for practices early, we were fairly quiet and diligent about it.

Then, a little melody from last night replays in my head. Against my better judgement, I hum a bit as I make my way back home. Whatever just happened, Elliot finally did what he always promised to do. I winded down-- I had fun.


	17. [ bloodhound's message ]

// **wraith's room** , fourty minutes later

 

The distance between the Elliot's place and mine was an easy 10 minute walk. I took a quick shower and other mundane hygenic rituals. I never actually quite understood the importance of dental hygiene, but I supposed I worked this hard to stay in one piece-- it would be a shame to allow my teeth to fall out. I look into the mirror, freshly washed face with let-down hair.

 _How does make-up work?_ I raise an eyebrow at the mirror-- at me. I didn't even really understand the different types of make-up. And what should I change? Maybe eyeliner? But I wasn't sure. What if I changed too much?

And if I didn't change anything at all-- would I be okay with that?

I had already heard what some people say about me in the Outlands. 'She looks like a meth addict-- _and_ tired,' a vague voice from a pub said once, while seeing a combat highlight of mine on the mounted screens. It really didn't bother me much at the time. I'm not disappointed if I can't impress drunken neckbeards and sex-deprived misogynists. Surviving is all that matters.

But now, I've been on a date--or something like a date--and I liked it. _Now, Wraith has a bit more experience, and she has_ no _idea what to do with it_ , I narrate to myself, seeing a reflection of my sarcasm as I roll my eyes. _Would makeup help me feel more confident during dates? Wait, how many dates do I want to go on? ... No, I have to get asked first. Or can I ask first? How does this work again?_

I sigh, already frusterated with myself. It must be so simple, but I lack complete knowledge over such elementary parts of societal living. It isn't my fault. I still feel stupid.

At least I had somewhat of a cheat to find answers. The Void's voices were always a murmur-- I never controlled them. They were background whispers I lived with. But sometimes, I could focus on them. I close my eyes. I let my mind sink into another space... the edge of my reality, dipping into my conciousness from infinite dimensions. The space around me felt as though it were shifting as my body slipped into the Void, but I kept my eyes shut, focusing.

I grew a theory a long time ago. The theory that allowed me to keep my sanity. The whispers-- while feeling foreign-- were actually me. Somehow I accessed my own mind, across time and space, from different timelines. I could always rely on their insight as well as I could rely on my own. Which had its faults. Finally, the whispers grew louder.

 _Don't let people control you. Never again_. She sounded a bitter version of myself.

Kinder whispers came, too. _Nothing can touch you anymore. You are too smart. It's okay to trust._

 _If you give yourself away, you'll never have yourself back. You'll be changed-- and for what? People with the full capacity to betray you? You can't risk anything, especially not now,_ a voice demands harshly.

 _Stop, STOP!_ Another voice pleads. _You can't be alone. You can't do this alone. Trust yourself to trust others._ I begin to grit my teeth as the voices begin colliding into chaos.

_Trust yourself--skddk msms--ALONE--don't have people take that--ds smsmw kl--you're running out of time--dlww nahkk ndmdeoew aalsld--the door--kewowneiuhh--the DOOR--_

I open my eyes as I shift back into reality, still facing the mirror, seeing my face change with the infinite possibilities I could appear as. My head pounds in agony, but I kept my eyes wide open, against the pain.

_\--dkwken snas--open--ddonenw--_

Dark lines spread across my eyelids and disappeared. My cheeks and nose seemed to change shape, showing a variety of scars and then nothing at all. My eyes and hair even change color, from blacks to whites and dark purples. I saw my shifting face as if I was looking at someone else. The voices kept getting louder.

_\--asksk LSK-- OPEN--nenaHh--_

I stare, entranced, until the colors and stability return to my firm reality. Sweat glistens on my face-- I feel on the brim of my existence, as if I could cross into death's grasp at any moment.

 ** _Open the door,_** the voices demand.

I snap out of it, shaking-- and with furious primal instinct, I run out of my bathroom, and quickly open my front door, almost out of breath.

The glassy sheen of red optics meets my eyes. In front of me, masked Bloodhound is kneeling, their outfit strapped with their usual combat gear. Their jaw had tilted up towards me, but was otherwise frozen in their stance-- there's a sealed envelope in their lowered hand. I redden slightly, the memory of our kiss feeling suddenly vivid.

We stare in silence, leaving only the sound of us breathing.

"Wraith--" Bloodhound began.

I take a sharp breath as I draw my strength. "So... you didn't want to talk with me? You wanted to leave a _nice note?"_ I cross my arms as I glance away. I didn't want to say it, but I did: "I've been looking for you."

Their gaze lowers. Their filtered voice replies, "I know. I wish I had more time to explain back then."

Somehow, my clutched heart softens. I sigh as I glance towards my room. "If you need to talk to me, come inside and be quick." They rise and nod-- I notice our height difference again, and frown with a slight flush before letting them in.

As they entered, I smell their oak scent again. There's a sudden ache in my chest-- I didn't understand it. I feel my eyes sting.

The door closes behind me, and I face them. "Why?" I ask sadly, my eyes barely reaching their face. "Why would you kiss me?"

Bloodhound begins to un-strap their mask. Long spells of blonde hair fall out, and reveal those piercing blue eyes to me again. Their structured and androgynous face really did look beautiful, but also held a world of sorrow in their expression.

"I... lost control," their clean voice rolls heavily, as if they couldn't believe it themselves. Their deep peach lips press together gently for a moment. "I don't know how. A hunter must have complete precision over their actions... it is required of them. But you summoned something beyondth that, something I never recognized. I apologize. I've failed to do what I sought out." They try to meet my eyes. "To thank you properly for all you did for me."

I sigh, understanding their apology but still uneasy. "I told you-- I don't remember anything about helping you." I smile weakly. "You don't owe me anything."

They shake their head. "You misunderstandth." A gloved hand is raised, offering their warm grip to me. "I know you require nothing from me. I only recognize the agony you suffered-- others may not understand, but they can see the mark it's left on you. I know intimately how zhat mark feels." Something about Bloodhound was always eloquent and refined. The blonde's symmetrical lips smile like a bending dancer. "I saw a spark of desperation in you that night. The same that I once hadth. I... wanted to comfort you."

I look at their wide gloved hand, and slowly raise mine. But I hesitate. "Please," I say softly, lowering my eyes and arm. "Give me time. I don't know anything about you. I can't just... cry in your arms like some lost damsel and feel better. No one can take away my pain, everything I've forgotten I've lost, or the lack of belonging that I feel-- not even you."

They nod as their smile falls in disappointment. Their hand lowers. "How can I help you, Wraith?"

I close my eyes for a second, searching myself for an answer to their question. Suddenly, my eyes pop open, and I look at them, almost refreshed.

"Let's meet somewhere tomorrow," I say decisively. "We need to talk... about your hunt for Elliot. I can't trust you until we do." Maybe it's a selfish way to repay my favor to Elliot. I didn't even dare to call it a date, since it feels more like a necessary interrogation between Bloodhound and I-- but I knew I needed to give us a chance to talk. I need to open my true self to people. My voices, even the stubborn ones, proved something to me. I had to open doors myself to ever know who will open to me back.

And I can't survive alone forever.

Bloodhound's brows raise in surprise, but their pale skin turns pink; a satisfying view that makes me gigglish. "What's wrong?" I smile. "Never hung out with a girl before?"

"No," they blurt wide-eyed. They always seemed careful tongued, even while stumbling, "I am merely... unaware of where to-- ah, vhat to do. No, vell, I know we will be talking but, er..." I'd never seen them so flustered.

I feel lit with relief. "Me neither," I admit, leaning my back on the wall more comfortably. "I'll figure out something for us to do. Can you come by tomorrow morning?" I scratch my neck. "I have to go to the range soon, and I've got our third round tomorrow evening."

Bloodhound nods politely, their hands seeming finicky at their sides. "I... will be there." They smirk. "Thank you, Wraith. I do have one request."

"Mm?"

"Don't tell Ajay or Gibraltar about this," they sigh. "They are--"

"--excitable?" I smile wider. "I've only met Ajay, but I understand. I won't tell."

We share a quiet moment of smiling at each other, before we break into a small, shy laugh.

Somehow, I already knew I could be starting a storm I couldn't control. But ever since my first date, it created a new longing for me: I wanted a deep connection that I've never had, someone I could fall to when I didn't know where else to go. Once I took a step to find out what that affection might be, the storm might change me forever.

But maybe I will change anyway. In the mirror, I saw a shifting girl. A girl who could never be understood by what she is perceived to be, but allowed to be a mystery because of who she actually is. A girl with infinite potential in infinite dimensions.

Maybe a girl like that doesn't have to be alone always. Having good company never offends my mantra, what always allows me to survive: t _rust yourself_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore note - It's Respawn confirmed lore (in a Wired interview) that Wraith communicates to different versions of herself from infinite dimensions, gaining their insight from the various outcomes and possibilities of her situation. I thought that was sooo cool. Just letting the readers know, in case you're curious! <3 Since I do insert a lot of lore, considering we don't have very much haha.


	18. [ alexander ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger Warning - Described physical & gun violence, implied death.

// **training area** , king's canyon. 2 hours later.

For once, I started my day with a smile-- I had thought that it could stay that way. Yet, I felt heavy as I approach the training area, fully realizing the conversation I needed with Bloodhound.

I sigh as I see Elliot and Pathfinder, already on the range, muttering some arguement about their Wingman shot accuracy. Dust blows across my dark outfit, coating my leathered shins in dirt. The island winds were substancial today.

Did Bloodhound stop his hunt after our last encounter? Their honey-dripping warmth always overwhelmed me before I could think properly. And even then, Elliot had said that it seemed like the Champion was waiting for something. Was Bloodhound waiting until we won? What then? If they wanted Elliot's life, they couldn't have it.

They won't.

I wave at the distracted boys, passing empty bins. Elliot doesn't notice as he pushes the robot's arm jestfully, and laughs, "You see, smiling robots wouldn't understand. I'm just sayin' that I _meant_ to hit the rim, thur-tha- _therefore_ \--"

"Hey. Sorry I'm a tad late," I smile faintly as I step beside them.

Elliot gives me a playful salute as Pathfinder's monitor shifts from yellows to a bright pink smile. "Friend! Wraith!" he beeps, "We were just starting." Then, both of them pause their movement and blink at me.

The trickster takes a step towards me, leaning towards my face. Shadows cast over our faces.  "You okay?" he says quietly.

I meet his eyes and try to chuckle casually. "Yeah. Why?" Swiftly, I walk past him and grab a dark Hemlok. Elliot crosses his arms.

"Alright, what happened?" he says gruffly. "You seem on a totally different energy than this morning."

Metal clicks as I load a high capacity heavy magazine into the Hemlok. I'm turned away as I handle the gun, not glancing back as I reply.. "It's nothing, Elliot." I sigh. I couldn't lie anymore. "I'm just... worried."

"About what?" he replies expectedly.

I turn to him. "I just have a lot more awareness now, I guess, about everything. Partially thanks to your... favor." I smile slightly, cheeks feeling warm.

He smirks-- I'm surprised to see bright relief in his gaze. Elliot winks roguishly. "Maybe I gotta do you another favor. Only to help ya out, of course."

I chuckle with genuine amusement before Pathfinder raises his hand. "I still do not know what this favor is! How may I also assist my friends?" Path asks sweetly.

Before I could answer, suddenly, the arena booms. A Kraber shot.

Pathfinder's knees buckle as he falls to the ground, silently.

There wasn't even time to react. Immediately, Elliot and I dive behind the nearby rocks. I only glance at the trail of dust in the air, following into the back of the upper range. "How the hell did they get in here?" I blurt in a whisper, my head spinning. "The range was reserved for us. I... I didn't feel their aim." Not to mention you couldn't enter without specific permissions to avoid the situation of pre-game assassinations on Apex Games grounds. Especially for winners or crowd favorites; the Games made money off of our appearances.

Now, my wide eyes are stuck on Path's body. I had seen people die before-- why did this feel so different? As if a bone had been ripped from my own chest. My mind felt miles away, in denial that Path wouldn't simply sit back up.

" _Hey_ , focus," Elliot nudges me, cowered beside me. I glare offendedly, but easily ease as I see his own glassy eyes. "Our buddy isn't gone forever, yeah? We'll figure out a way to repair him-- I'm sure that tough robot has had w-worse injuries. Right now, we gotta stay alive to take this bastard out."

I nod with slowly furrowed brows, anger beginning to crawl into bloodthirst. I mutter,"They're above us. Follow my lead." He nods firmly.

I jump and slide on the platform above us, ducking under another ledge. _Traps_ , the voices say. "They were prepared. Don't get near those targets. Not sure what kind, but traps are here already," I mutter once Elliot catches up to me, echoing my movement beside me.

He leans with a scowl, "Fucker is a coward. Let's make 'em regret it."

I smile twistedly. "They won't have time to regret. I want them dead."

Elliot peeks up and smirks as he quickly sends out a holograph above us , who climbs and runs towards the next ledge for cover-- the Kraber booms again, whizzing close past us overhead. He glances a small screen at his wrist before nodding at me. "They're still in the back, behind all these targets. What do you wanna do?"

I reply quietly, "Let me get near them. Do what you do best, Mirage." I nod. "Misdirect their attention. Try to force them to the go left."

"Aye, captain," the scarred man grins. "Be careful, alright?"

"You too," I whisper softly before my hands crackle with the Void. I slip away.

The world shifts into purples and greys within the Void-- I'm sprinting towards the far left of the range as my head spins with possibilities. Traps, being picked off... It felt like we were fighting Caustic all over again. What was going on? And how would he gain access to here? Suddenly, my eye widen as reality reappears in front of me, and I see Caustic crouched near the far edge of the range with a Kraber.

_The Scavenger let him in here._

I twist out the Kunai knife from my side holster, hearing multiples of Mirage's steps in the far right. "Ohh~ I got a game," the trickster's distant voice beams, "How many bullets are ya gonna waste on holographs?" A theatric pause. " _All_ of them? Oh, jeez. You go kid!"

The dialogue was helpful. It distracts the scientist from metal and dirt sliding past my leather like water-- I knew the range as well as I did breathing. I knew how to crunch and spit him out like a piece of sand between my teeth. I feel air through my hair as I climb up the rocks along the edge of the range. The high side view of the training area gives me good idea of what was going on, but I didn't need anything beyond a glance to understand. I'm too focused. I see Caustic's forearm begin to move. I drop behind a ridge-- the sound of my boots against the gravel drowns by another Kraber shot. I hear Elliot's distant laugh.

Caustic's calf begins to pivot. I expect it: he notices I'm missing and likely wants to glance around. I wait behind the raised rock.

Five seconds. Another Kraber shot booms through the range.

I begin peeking from my spot as Mirage keeps up the taunts. "Nice shot! Well, uh, kinda. It missed." Caustic is close now and audibly grunts, reloading the sniper. I smirk.

 _50 more meters. Then he's mine_. I take out my knife, glistening in the shadows by its own Void sparks. _I'll sprint it._

I jump over the ridge. Things begin to happening so quickly that it almost feels in slow motion. Caustic's Kraber reloads with a powerful shift, as a hot shell flies out of the magazine. Their neck slowly turns. I keep running.

His goggles reflect flares of sunlight as his mask turns. I keep running.

The plentiful slick brown hair behind his mask didn't look soft-- it looked too well combed, and sharp. His face dips into the shade as he turns, and I see the depth of their psycotic gaze. It's only a meter away from me, staring into me. _It knows me_. I keep running, flipping the Kunai firmly in my palm.

I slide beside his feet before I kick off the wall behind him, and shove my dagger into his lower back. Caustic releases a sharp breath. I clutch his hair as I yank him backwards, hissing right into his ear, "I told you-- you're not coming back this time." I twist the knife deeper between his ridged spine and liver as he groans. I never took pleasure in a kill, except for now. Every gut ripping sound gives me deeper, hotter satisfaction. Thick courses of blood drench us both as it sprays my hips and slides down my right leg.

Caustic still spat a laugh. I narrow my eyes toward his face, hidden by his slowly hunching body. He falls forward on his stomach, his arms dropping the Kraber. His large gloved hands grip into the gravel as he attempts to roll around. I kick him over-- he groans as he's forcefully put on his back.

"Why are you here?" I snarl dryly.

The man snickers between wet coughs. "I wanted this. They don't allow true death in the Ring, you know." I glare. Caustic's eyes turn slowly to me. "Do you remember?" he growls lowly.

I felt disgusted by this man assuming to know anything about me. I kneel down and spat, "You should tell me what you're expecting-- I already smell your dying breath."

He weakly rises his goggles and slips them off his face, keeping his breathing mask. Caustic's gruff eyebrows and thin folds towards his eyes show his age more clearly. There are several thin scars near his cheeks-- they look like fingernails. I feel my heart stop.

Caustic whispers in his deep rasp, "A long time ago, I sold a carefully designed toxic gas to the IMC. My employer, Humbert Labs, did not appreciate the true nature of my work." He coughs harshly. "My employers confronted me. I killed them easily for it. Once I falsified my own death, I wanted to see where the IMC were using my creations. I wanted to gather data on my work." He keeps a steady gaze on me.

I suddenly feel weak. I want him to shut up.

"I found the facility. Your facility."

Sweat peels from my neck as I breathe heavily.

"I infiltrated as a caretaker. And I saw you-- and the torture they did to you with my own creations. There were many others, too. Yet... you persevered. You never let them see your agony. " He almost seems to smile. "It inspired me. I wanted to see you in the real world."

"No," I whisper in shock. I don't even register Elliot's steps behind me.

Caustic laughs sickly as he says fondly, "You never showed me a face like that. With true loss." I realize their eyes are green as he searches my expression. "My dear, no one will ever have you. You're far too wild to be contained: you are a fire that could burn down the entire Frontier if you willed it."

My primal instincts take over me as I shudder and I hear myself scream like I'm watching a nightmare: "Don't flatter me, you _sick bastard!_ "

The back of his glove strokes my ankle, and I step back in a shiver. Caustic's psychotic gaze somehow seemed gentler. He mutters, "You called me Alexander. You once promised to kill me so coldy... but lately, you have changed. You've _softened,_ " he says disappointedly. "So I needed to squash one of your pets to force you to truly kill me." His hand stretches weakly on the ground. "Call me Alexander again. Do it once more for the person that helped set you free, darling."

I grab my Kunai knife to stab the delirious man over again and again-- but firm hands grab both of my wrists before I can plant my knife down. I turn my head and see Elliot grunting as he pulls back my arms from behind, fighting my strength. " _Elliot!--_ "

"Wraith, listen to me, alright?!" Elliot's baritone voice snaps. His unusual urgency grabs my attention. "This man has the answers you're looking for. You're not thinking clearly right now."

The chaos of emotions turns me to snap my wrists free from his grasp as I stand up. Sweat clings hair to my face-- I don't know if my blurred vision is my anger or tears. Elliot flinches from me with shocked vulnerability.  "Who the fuck gave you permission to _care_ , Elliot? I promised myself I'd kill whoever did this to me-- I'm not making exceptions."

Elliot's expression tenses as he yells back at me. "You don't even know that yet! He just provided a fucking awful t-torture device-- he wasn't even involved. _But he knows who was_. Isn't that important to you?!"

It feels like fire is dripping from my cheeks. "Yes--"

"Then don't do this," Elliot insists, softer this time. "Let's call Apex's medical team right now. They'll get Pathfinder up and running too."

I stare at him silently, furiously. I want to slap Elliot's caring, stupid puppy face. And I also knew he was right.

 _Path_.

_When you come back, no one will ever touch you again. I'll make sure of it._


	19. [ anita's promise ]

// **apex games headquarters** , medical wing. late at night.

The Apex Games didn't really build their own headquarters. Much like the zones in King's Canyon, it's a refurbished IMC command facility. It's similar to Skulltown in shape, but more like Repulsor in architecture. There are multiple tall radio towers to communicate with the IMC bases across the Frontier. Now, they're used to broadcast the Games.

I'm sitting in the northern medical wing on a cold steel chair in a silent white hallway. It's not exactly a hospital, despite the long lining of chairs and its top tier advances in medical treatment-- it's closed to civilians and I honestly didn't see many other patients. Probably because nobody could saunter in here whenever they wanted. But since our squad was injured on Apex grounds, it's fair game.

My elbows rest on my knees as I'm leaning over and biting my lip. There are several tall, windowless doors in the hallway, but only two of them near me, across from each other-- the closest one to my right had Pathfinder. The one across held Caustic, or 'Alexander'.

We have a drop tomorrow evening, so I promised Elliot I'd sleep soon. I almost never took my rest lightly... But how could I close my eyes and sleep right now? I couldn't replay the memories Alexander spoke about-- I could only replay how he said them to me. I feel stuck, unable to do anything else, but beg for my mind to remember. _Anything_. Just enough to know if Alexander was lying.

My gloved hands press over my tired eyelids. I remember a screen across from my strapped bed with 'Wraith', a sequence of numbers, and graphs of my pulses. I remember rage, confusion, shortness of breath. I remember the sound of ripping, and intense pressure on my limbs that would leave bruises for weeks afterwards.

I still can't know if Alexander was lying.

A door creaks open and slams shut, paired with reverbing footsteps; I straighten up from my hunched position. From the end of the hallway, Anita waves-- she's dressed stylishly in dark pants and a long navy trench coat. Her dark complexion flatters the look as she smiles at me. "Got your message," her voice echos. She always had a powerful walk. Something about her hips and raised jawline seemed balanced like a fine scale-- I watch her. Anita glances around the sterile white walls as her voice gets closer. "I never liked it in here. Bet you don't either."

I return the smile weakly. "No. Not really."

After a moment, Anita frowns, standing beside me. I thought she'd sit down, but instead, her soft hand reaches out to me, and rests on my shoulder. She squeezes it with a concerned look in her gaze. "Then let's not talk in here," she whispers. Considering she threatened to kill me in the Scavanger and is a hardened IMC soldier, Anita had a surprising capacity for compassion at times. I feel my stomach turn in anxiousness upon her touch, but it gives me the strength to smile wider.

"Alright."

 

// **streets** , A32 mainland

We agreed to walk towards my apartment, since it's a twenty minute walk anyway. The roads between the various areas of civilized mainland weren't always 'city-like.' Usually, it was a well-traveled dirt road. Other times, it was lined with concrete. And rarely, there was an actual crosswalk. Buildings still created a sense of "street blocks", but without city planning, more than often, our paths had curved turns from lumpy and disorganized construction. Landmarks, at least, weren't difficult to find-- there were always unusual details to be seen, since everyone was trying to improvise a home out of the land the IMC abandoned. I've found people building custom add-on rooms to IMC huts, creating a strange visual mix of a war facility and Angel City. I've even seen people use old, wrecked Titan husks as roof decor or doorway greeting statues. But luckily, either way, I always had a pretty good sense of where I was.

"Man, I miss home on nights like this," Anita hums as our feet shuffle over the dark dirt road. The night sky reveals its abundant starlight and brush strokes of blues and purple. But the landscape is still too dark to be appreciated. Some closed stores sit idly by the roadside.

"Why's that?" I ask her.

Her voice is low. " _All_ the streets are lit up back home. Walking around at night actually feels as safe as it is during the day. Did it all the time as a kid." A light fog exudes from her breath. I cross my arms, the chills reminding me how cold it is.

I smirk. "You don't seem like the type to be actually worried about late night ambushes."

"Hah," her dark lips grin, "Well, I certainly gotta think about it. The market doesn't have security, y'know. I'm living in the open. I don't pay a ton of money for those protected housing buildings like you do."

"It's not really _that_ safe," I murmur as I kick rocks beneath my feet.

"Oh?"

I hesitate as heat rises to my face. "Let's just say I've had unexpected visitors before." _An attractive and possible psychopath, but excellent kisser, to be specific_.

Anita looks at me curiously. "Is this what you needed help with?"

I blink, slightly flustered, "Oh, definitely not." I pause. "I think. But anyway, I found out more about my past. I wanted to know your thoughts." Anita nods, listening. I press my lips, staring at the road. "Caustic... or, Alexander... he says that he worked as a caretaker at my facility. And that he helped set me free." I look at her. "Tell me everything you know about that."

She glances at the sky, thinking. "It's already known within the Scavenger that Caustic is Alexander Nox-- a lead scientist from Humbert Labs assumed to be dead. Got in trouble for testing toxic fumes on human subjects, and killed the guys that wanted to stop his research." She tilts her head. "But he disappeared and everyone thinks Nox is dead-- and it seems like he wants Nox to _stay_ dead. If he got hired by the IMC, he wouldn't have been able to use 'Nox' as his last name, even if he were stupid enough to keep 'Alexander' as his first." Anita suddenly smiles widely at me. "Hey. If you can find out his fake name, maybe we can dig up his employee records from the Scavenger. We might even find out the facility he got put in."

I nod cautiously, slightly hesitant to talk to Alexander again despite absolutely needing to. Anita's smile dissipates.

"Look," she mutters, "Sorry for being hard on you in the Scavenger. I just needed to keep my game face on, too. Ajay isn't in my squad."

"That isn't what I was thinking about," I force a smile. "But, I get it. Thanks. You already told me how important it is to get back home for you."

"Then what's up?--oh, Wraith--" she blurts before she grabs my waist, nearly picking me up to drag me towards her and I slam into her chest. It wasn't as hard as when I slammed into her stomach. Somehow, I never felt safer than between her chest and strong forearms across my back. A motorcycle suddenly flies past us in a thundering stream of light, where I was walking.

I blush as I'm barely keeping balance, and push myself back. Anita has a proud raised brow. "Th-thanks," I huff before chuckling. "I don't like how you make me feel like a bag of flour-- just FYI."

She laughs, her dark eyes carrying playful energy, "Is that so?"

Suddenly, she grabs below my arms. "Anita--" I start, panicked. She's giggling as she starts to spin me with fierce velocity. " _Anita!!_ " I scream, in shock that this was even happening. The world blurs around us as the dark woman laughs with bursting volume, and my hands grasp her upper arms for my fucking life, terrified. We must've spun four or five times before Anita slows down, and her lips seal her laughter as my feet reach the ground again.

I stumble as I clutch her arm, my balance being even more delicate as the ground feels slippery. "What the hell, Anita?" I complain before feeling a laugh erupt from my sore throat.

Not even the night can hide her white glistening grin. "Nobody spins bags of flour in circles for fun. So think about it that way: I proved ya wrong."

"You think you're clever," I pout dizzily, red-faced.

Anita raises her index finger, shaking it tauntingly, "You can't play that card if I _am_ clever." I give her a dumbfounded look. She laughs again. "Wraith, goddamn. You're too cute."

As stability returns to me, I watch the ground as I keep walking, quicker than before. "I'm not cute," I say as gruffly as I can muster.

Anita whistles behind me, "Alright, get ahead of me if you want-- the view back here is pretty good too." I glare defiantly back at her. She smiles innocently as she keeps her pace. "You know, nobody else gets to see me like this, right?"

I stare before we're walking side by side again. "What do you mean?"

She shrugs. "I'm comfortable around you. I don't need to be Bangalore when we're hanging out. I can be Anita-- the same kinda girl I am when I'm home with my family, for once." She smirks towards me. "It's nice."

I look ahead nervously, but my gaze focuses on the sky instead of the dirt roads. "Yeah," I admit. "Talking with you is nice. I don't know. I don't feel like I need to hide as much from you."

She smiles contently. "You don't remember your family, but you remind me of mine. If there's absolutely anything I can do for you, just let me know."

I glance at her. "Why?" I ask weakly, almost ashamed. "You keep doing me favors. I haven't done a lot for you to earn a promise like that."

"Trust me," she says softly, "it's more than you know."


	20. [ the fox and the hound ]

// **a blurry grey space** , ?

[One of the upbeat songs from my radio is playing. ](https://soundcloud.com/jstnvillagrana/donuts-and-coffee)I never really liked it-- it was too flowery and it always seems to romanticize a feeling that I couldn't understand. Suddenly, I feel my legs tangled with someone else's. I'm against a wall. This person's calfs are muscled yet lanky, and their bulky groin presses against mine with playful aggresiveness, despite both of us feeling clothed. I'm not controlling my own body, and I don't even seem flustered by the situation. My palms curve smoothly over this person's back like I've memorized it. Their warm cheek presses against mine as they cuddle into my shoulder. My eyes are closed as I'm laughing, their breath tickling my neck. "We _need_ to stop," I whisper between a smirk. "It's busy today. Someone will see us."

The music begins to distort. Their reply sounds distant and clogged, and I can't pinpoint the words or tone-- then, a pierced tongue touches my neck.

 

// **wraith's room** , next early morning

I wake up from a... dream. My face feels hot as I immediately push off my sheets and I glare around my room, making sure nobody was present. Everything is silent and empty, as usual. I'm alone.

_What the hell was that then?_

A fantasy? Or a memory? I hardly ever got memories about my past. This would be the first. It just didn't make sense-- why would the same song on my radio play during it? And why would I imagine a pierced tongue, the gentle slide of a round piercing, if I've never actually felt one?

I press my eyelids, suppressing my confusion to focus on anything else. I did feel well-rested, I realize. Which feels surprising, considering all that unfolded, as well as the amount Anita spun me around. Somehow, I had enough calmness within me to keep moving forward.

After a short cold shower, I put on a loose white t-shirt and the comfortable dark leather-strapped pants I had with my boots. I hadn't forgotten about my arrangement with Bloodhound. Things were just changed around a bit, since the events of yesterday. I thought maybe we'd just have breakfast together, but now I feel too restless to sit down. A morning hike sounds nice.

I hear sudden loud tapping on my window. I quickly hurry rubbing my hair with the towel before skipping out of my bathroom to greet them. _Even if my window shouldn't be a front door for Bloodhound_ , I think with slight amusement. But it's not them. A raven sits on the window ceil, waiting with a paper in its mouth. With narrowed eyes, I open the window carefully, then take the folded paper. I unwravel the message.

 _Tell me where to meet you._ Delivery bird aside, Bloodhound didn't need to add a signature-- the handwriting is as elegant as they were.

From my desk, I write a response on the paper and pass it to the raven. A couple black feathers slip into my room as it flies away.

 

// **foxtail mountain** , A32 mainland

The nearby mountain, Foxtail, had an unusual ombre of dark to whitish rocks upon the peak, earning its name. It almost looked like snow from afar-- though it wasn't truly tall enough to have its own snowfall from A32's warm climate. It was probably the most unique landmark that was convienent to get to, considering how different it is from King's Canyon. The flora is lush with forest and variety of flowers at the basin, thinning as the atmosphere did. And there's fauna: rabbits, squirrels, birds, and, of course, foxes could actually be spotted around here.

I sigh heavily as I finally reach one of the trailheads, fairly isolated behind the mountain. The anxious anticipation I'd been putting off starts to hit me. Patterned shadows pass over me as I turn around, looking for Bloodhound between the nearby tall trees.

"I'm here," their voice says. I look up.

Bloodhound is sitting on a high branch as a raven flies off their wrist. They look... unlike any other time I've seen them. They weren't in their combat suit at all. Deep brown combat boots were tied over dark orange pants, and look comfortable over their fit calves and thighs. And a loose black shirt over their torso, which didn't reveal much about their gender still. Their wide shoulders have a masculine arch, but the breeze reveals the curve of their hips with surprising grace. Their long blonde hair is tied into an attractive ponytail, leaving stray pieces near their face and beside their ears. I blink with a stupid expression, caught off-guard by the appearence. The blonde had been resting against the trunk, and smiles as they lean forward, hands gripping the branch. "I did noth think I overdressed."

I return the smile, albiet a bit more shyly. "No, not at all. I... just didn't expect it," I admit.

Bloodhound slides off the high branch and on their feet, next to me. Their oak scent became even more intoxicating than before as I try to make eye contact. I start to notice their pale eyelashes-- some of the prettiest I've seen. "I vas surprised you wanted to meet here," they say, an impressed glint in those blue eyes. "Noth many know about this trail."

I smirk as I start to walk, already sweating in my palms. "I have to explore. Freedom would be a waste otherwise."

Bloodhound chuckles as they follow beside me. "Fair enough."

I bit my lip as we start the trail, and I feel like I simply can't put it off any longer. I glance at their easy smile, and mutter, "Are you still hunting Elliot? I need to know that first."

The smile wears off. "I don't know," they respond quietly.

"How do you not know?" I furrow my brows.

Gravel crunches under our feet, filling the silence for a moment. Bloodhound looks away, and ravens fly off in the distance. "I don't understand what the gods vant from me righth now," they admit, looking to me again. "Elliot's technology is the only kind that surpasses mine-- that can fool me into believing a clone of himself." They release a hesitant chuckle. "When I found out, I felt the calling to stalk the stubborn prey, and uncover his weaknesses."

"How do you... feel a calling?" I ask slowly.

They smirk. "It's a matter of your very existence-- a calling draws upon your every sensation. Like desiring to see an enemy die, wanting to feel them tear apart, even smelling their bloodth: it calls upon every part of your body, every motion of your spirit." Their explaination sends a chill through me. It was how I felt about finding out my past-- it haunts every part of me. They continue, watching the inclining trail ahead, "It's not a matter of personal choice. Destiny calls me to the hunt."

I frown. "So you're going to continue?" A defiant heat rises in me. "I'm not letting you kill my squadmate, Bloodhound. _Nobody_ touches them."

To my surprise, their expression seemed unsure, with a small frown. "When I found out Elliot had joined your squad, things became... complicated. In fact, it frightened me at first-- I did not want to hunt you, though I did not know why. I thought, perhaps, you were a competing huntress the gods hath sent." They sigh gently, bits of loose blonde hair swaying over their folded brow. "Then... right before we first met, I remembered you, and what you did for me." I watch them carefully as they smile again, warmth in their cheeks. "I needed to see you after that. I felt something primal, as I've mentioned before. Something beyond my very hunt, something I never predicted."

I begin to feel my stomach churn as my own face reddens. I look away. "That's why you invited me to your squad so late," I whisper with understanding.

"Yes," the blonde speaks quietly. "I knew that you'd refuse. For some reason, I knew you carried honor, yet thath you'd do whatever it takes to win." I look back at them. Bloodhound is smiling at me. "And when I met your eyes, I realized nothing, not even the threat of death, could frighten you. You seemed even prepared for it, like I am."

Morning birds begin to chirp as we pass under more tree shadows. I smile a bit, and reply as I walk with crossed arms, "Death isn't frightening. It's living a life too short that scares people. In some ways, I wish my torment was over-- that the voices would be silent forever." I sigh. "But living to see another day is a luxury to me now. And I will _always_ fight for another day, to my dying breath. If I fall," I chuckle humorlessly, "well, that was supposed to happen a long time ago. I was lucky enough that it didn't."

They nod respectfully. "I do not think our death comes at our expectation or command. You have a great purpose, Wraith-- I feel it deep within me."

I flush. "What makes you so certain?"

Their steps pause. The incline we were hiking on had stopped, and we were higher up-- a view of the treetops and distant valley flora beneath us. Bloodhound takes my hands, squeezing their thumb into my palms. No gloves; just their raw warmth against mine. "I feel it like how I feel nature. It is something I breathe,I _see_ without seeing. An instinct." They pause as their lips press together. "I do not know if I am hunting Elliot because when I see you, it overpowers everything else, even my hunt. I don't understand it."

"What instinct?" I ask, feeling lost in their words. "You said you didn't want to hunt me, but it almost sounds like it."

Bloodhound's face reddens further. "I... I don't know," they manage to whisper. "I have never experienced this. I can only describe ith how I know how." Their thumbs press harder on my palms, making me blush. "When I feel you..." their voice drifts for a moment and their eyes search mine. "I feel it throughout my body and spirit. A chill. A warm breeze. All at once."

A sealed part of my heart began to feel unwraveled. Their adoration for me felt intimate, and powerful. My awe for Bloodhound seems to only worsen every time we met. I squeeze their hands. "Bloodhound..." I say softly. "That sounds incredible. I just..." I begin to choke, suddenly sad. "I don't know if I know how that feels yet."

Their wide hand holds my cheek, wiping away a singular dripping tear. Bloodhound gives me a gentle smile. "I know. It's a difficult feeling for people like us-- how could we ever trust mortals again? After what they did to us?"

I nod cautiously. "To be fair, I thought you were still hunting Elliot up until now, so you shouldn't seem so smug," I say, flushed.

Bloodhound releases a hearty laugh-- it's an unusual florish of color from the stoic hunter. But what gets me red-earred isn't their laugh.

I see it clearly now-- they had a pierced tongue, with a round piercing.

They ease into a faint smirk. "I will give up my hunt for you and no one else-- my only, my first _ástvinur_."

I smile despite the heat in my face, pleased, and ask curiously, "Wait, what does that mean?"

They chuckle as they let go of my hands and continue on the trail. "Perhaps I'll tell you once you know the feeling I speak of," they reply slyly.

I frown. "That's just unfair," I pout with crossed arms, following behind them. The pulled back blonde hair makes it easy to see the corner of Bloodhound's lips smirk.

"You know," I say, "I feel... weird calling you Bloodhound all the time." They look back at me. "Don't you have a more personal name I can call you by?"

Something about Bloodhound's expression seems suddenly devilish, or mischevious. "I never made a name aside my alias. My identity as a hunter is all that mattered to me," they smile. "But you can call me Ástin."

I raise a brow. "Is that similar to the other word you mentioned?"

They shrug before walking onwards. "It's a code word with no vreal meaning until it's used intentionally." They add, "I'm also not the only one to use my alias as my name."

I open my mouth and shut it again. "Damn," I chuckle as I catch up beside them, "Well, you got me."

They glance at me with a victory smirk. "Anything I shouldth call you, Wraith?"

I reply carefully, "You know, I've been thinking about it, but nothing really comes to mind. I'll let you know."

 

// 20 minutes later

When we reach the peak, we weren't out of stamina, but we were still out of breath before sitting ourselves down a nearby white boulder. The pale rocks around us were pretty to see against the grand view of the Apex Games colony. The Apex Games headquarters sat ominously in the middle of surrounding clusters of buildings, reminding me of Pathfinder and Alexander, a situation I already explained to Bloodhound. I sigh as my gaze lowers to my knees.

"What am I supposed to do, Ástin?" I frown. "What if Alexander is lying? It's my first lead on my past... but what if I chase it for nothing, and he's just as insane as we think he is?"

They clasp their hands between their thighs as they lean forward, watching the view. "You have no other lead from your past to choose from. Take it," they note. "You'll only truly regret it if you allow it to slip away."

 _Well, I might have another lead_ , I blush as I remember my dream. _But I can't really mention that to the person with a pierced tongue..._ I think about Alexander. "He makes me _so_ uncomfortable," I say quietly, biting my cheek. "I don't know if I can talk to him without wanting to rip out his lungs."

"Would you like it if I were present?" Ástin offers.

I blink at them. "Yeah," I admit, "I would. It just might be hard to explain to Elliot if he's there," I smile nervously.

They reply with a smirk, "His opinion is less important than you think. I will not hunt him, but I don't like him, especially not near you." They look back at the view. "A man who survives because he manipulates doesn't know how to stop, even if he wants to. I've seen it."

"In what way?" An alien feeling of fear clutches my heart.

Bloodhound's gaze seems to sharpen like daggers as they look off in the distance. "I thought I knew the squad Elliot was going to be on. He had consistant practices with them during the off-season, and they built strategies for themselves, speaking always about competing together. This is over the course of months. I had kept careful tabs on them all." They shake their head. "One day, Elliot walks into the headquarters. They came out on your squad."

I blink. "Why would he ditch his squad members like that? Elliot wouldn't do that."

Ástin looks at me seriously. "You didn't know Elliot like I did as a hunter. He was always slipping in and out of people's lives and hearts, unable to commit to anything or anyone. Only strangers truly adore him." They frown. "If he seems dedicated to you in any way, he is trying to impress you. Once he achieves that, there's nothing left that interests him. That is his history."

Disappointment falls within me as I think about Elliot's not-date with me. He _did_ impress me, and tried hard for it. Did he know? What will the round tonight look like if he doesn't care about me anymore? But... "He helped me against Alexander," I point out. "Elliot forced me not to kill him. That seems like more effort than needed in someone's personal life, doesn't it?"

Bloodhound strokes their chin. "That does seem a little further than his usual efforts. But then again, perhaps he's acclimating to you, and how little you tend to trust others."

 _He always mentioned 'getting a feel for where I'm comfortable' and trying to understand me_ , I begin to think, staring into my lap. _Is that not him being considerate?_

I feel Ástin's warm hand on my shoulder. "I don't mean to imbue distrust between you and another _felagi_ fighter. It is merely a concern as a friend." They pause. "When he defeated me in the first round, I knew your squad's bond would only deepen. But be careful."

"I will," I smile weakly. "Where's the rest of Elliot's old squad now?"

"In mine," Bloodhound smirks. "Ajay and Gibraltar might have a few things to say about Elliot if you ask them. But I don't know if I recommend it until after the season-- you need trust in your squad to win. I just... couldn't withhold that information from you much longer."

I nod, and put my hand over theirs on my shoulder. Ástin smiles. Their slightest touch gave me reprieve from everything that worried me, as if I could disappear like warm air.

I stare. And before I realize it, I ask quietly, "When did you pierce your tongue?"

They smirk, their eyes lit with slight surprise by the question. "A long time ago. I was quite the delinquent once."

"How's that?" I say disbelivingly.

Bloodhound has a handsome musing expression before replying, "It's a rather long story. The facility did noth erase all my memories-- only created gaps in it."

I nod as the sun brightens through the loose clouds, and I realize the sky is already a strong light blue: the early morning is nearly over. I sigh. "I have to get going before the drop today. But... tell me that story soon Ástin, alright?"

"Very well," they nod, and pick up my hand before they kiss it. I blush. Ástin smiles, "Win, _ástviner_."


	21. [ third round / elliot's wish ]

 

// **elliot's apartment** , midday

People have not often seen Bloodhound's gentle side-- I almost wish they did not hide it. Maybe it could inspire the Outlands as much as it did me.

I changed back into my full combat suit after the hike, then went straight to Elliot's place, as per usual before a drop. My feet and mind were lighter than ever. Maybe a gust of wind could pick me up and I'd float away like a napkin, or a feather.

Yet, when I reach Elliot's front door, all of the energy I feel became strained in my chest. I actually didn't want Ástin to be right about him. Elliot has been loyal to the squad-- loyal to our friendship. If I killed Alexander, I might have regretted it. The trickster and I were different in everyway, but we had started to truly trust each other; should I risk believing my shrouds of doubt?

Before I knock, the door opens, revealing Elliot in his usual Mirage get-up. All of our shared experiences rush towards me at once, and I don't know why, but I smile-- my distrust evaporates only for a moment. He blinks, seemingly surprised to see me. "There ya are, girl! We were just about to look for you." I blink back, to which he raises a smooth smirk. "What? Do you miss my _other_ outfit?"

I smirk slightly as my face only tickles with heat. He didn't _have_ to make the 'date' sound scandalous. "You really expect me to answer that, don't you?" I tap his arm lightly with a fist, my weak attempt to appear normal. "I'm not late. Why would you go looking for me?"

"Yeah well," he scratches his neck as he looks back into the room, "Someone got a little restless." I suddenly hear rapid whirling footsteps.

Pathfinder suddenly shoves his face over Elliot's shoulder, with all of his parts in perfect condition, and waves at me with feverish ethusiasm. "Wraith! Hello!! I made an egg cassarole and--!"

"Path!" I grin. I duck past Elliot at the doorway and immediately jump and hug the robot. I cling affectionately to his tall metal shoulders as my feet hang a few inches above the floor. I squeeze him. "I'm so sorry you got involved in that. Caustic only wanted to get to me," I whisper, ashamed.

Path's steely hands clutch my back carefully. "Oh, friend... it's quite alright." I ease my arms and land back on my feet. His monitor shows his bright yellow grin. "I am only disappointed that I couldn't see his blood-filled gasps as he almost died!"

I chuckle, Path's optimistic predator instincts never failing to surprise the shit out of me. Elliot lets out an ajoining laugh behind me. "You keep gettin' handsy with the robot-- what do I gotta do for some attention, wear a metal suit??"

With a smirk, I turn and say on cue with our usual banter, "Path is a good boy; I know his intentions are completely wholesome around me."

Elliot's eyes glint with mischief and he lets out a disbeliving laugh this time. "Ohh that's it?" The tall tanned man crosses his arms as he walks beside me. I stare blankly, trying to not give him my reaction. His cologne has a sultry musk to it today-- warm, comfortable, like a hug in clean bedsheets. "If you know my intentions so well, how _bad_ am I?" his roguish voice growls playfully.

The question should've made me blush.  Instead, I remember what Ástin told me: Elliot's abandoned teammates before. It's possible Ajay and Gibraltar weren't the last. It's concerning because dropping out of a squad last minute can seriously hamper teamwork in the duo's future matches. We profited from it when we fought against Bloodhound and won. Maybe Elliot planned that. Maybe Elliot had another winning squad lined up after ours, before the final rounds.

I continue to stare into his warm chocolate eyes, now conflicted. Could Ástin be wrong? Truthfully, I didn't want to fake my trust in anyone. I don't think I _could_. I can't breathe when I think about my first date, fake or not, being with a manipulative selfish prankster. I can't breathe when I think about the first person to _care_ about my past was just trying to use me. I thought I was beginning to know Elliot-- one of my first real friends. My brows become tense against my eyelids, fighting back my blurring vision. Elliot slowly frowns, confusion making his posture stiffen.

"W-what did I do?" he asks softly, our eye contact becoming vulnerable.

I shake my head and raise my brows casually as I rub my eyelids, as if I were just tired. "It's nothing." Elliot searches my face patiently, seeming disappointed by my answer. I just didn't want to talk about it before our third round.

I force a smile as I look up at the boys. "Come on, we have to break some necks."

 

// **outside of artillery** , king's canyon

The line of trucks wear strips of the late evening's orange sunlight, slipping through the knotted trees. I open a nearby bin, biting my cheek with frusteration. "This place is unlooted too," I sigh into my squad comms. There were 2 other squads left. The only problem? We've spent seven minutes looking for them-- the ring has shrunk twice now.

"Damn," Mirage mutters. He climbs on top of a truck and uses the scope of his R-99, searching around us. "These kids can't be serious-- it's been too freakin' quiet." Our rotation around the map didn't seem to help.

Path grapples to a nearby ledge, his voice whirling cheerfully, "I'll drop a zipline to mislead them to think we went to Wetlands."His metallic legs make a firm landing before he points to the nearby cliff. "Meanwhile, we could wait in high ground here, waiting for their first move!" He gestures west and south. "The only places remaining in the ring are Wetlands and Farm. We'll be able to hear shots from either."

I nod, looking up at Elliot. "Let's do it."

 

// a few minutes later

I'm laying under a bush, waiting on a high ledge along the tall rock formations. I sigh quietly as I peer into my 2-4x scope on a Prowler. Suddenly, I feel the leaves and twig branches shift and scratch loudly.

I look beside me and see Elliot, shoulders pressed against mine with a wide smile. He had an expecting look, like a puppy waiting for a treat. I groan quietly, though

a bit amused. "What is it? Make it quick," I say as I look into my scope again. Pathfinder was on top of the rock formation, and I didn't want to risk losing focus in case he calls out the enemy.

Elliot's voice sounds more careful than I anticipated. "I, uh.... I know it's not the best time-- I just wanna say that if I did anything wrong during the date, or ever... let me know. I-I dunno." I look at him. His brows press together weakly, in an unusual way I haven't seen him do. "I just feel like I did something wrong because you've seemed down since the date, but I don't know what I did."

I feel heavy as I try to think of a simple response. "It's complicated, Elliot. We can't talk about this right now."

"I know but--"

"But nothing," I frown, swatting leaves from my face. "Focus, Elliot."

His lips tense together. He shakes his head, snapping, "It's driving me crazy, okay?" Elliot seems disoriented, still shaking his head as he rambles, "Normally I can put any thought aside, hell, I can push people away easily when I want to. But _nothing_ makes this insanity go away." Heat rises in my face and stomach, afraid of what he means. "I think about you, I worry about you, and it scares me when you're upset and I can't help you. I-I just need to know if I did anything wrong.." He senses my uneasiness right away. "Please, Wraith. It'll help me focus."

I open my mouth before I know what to say. I stare into his soft eyes and realize how vulnerable Elliot is right now. I even forget we're in the Ring. The trickster isn't putting on a show-- he's begging. I smile weakly. "It has to do with your past. I found out some things and... they disturb me." Elliot's eyes widen, but I couldn't tell if it were from fear or surprise. I add, "I only heard about it. I wanted to investigate on my own before asking you."

Elliot's gaze narrows. "Wait a second. Are you still talking with Bloodhound?"

I redden slightly. "How is that relevant?"

"Ohh, Wraith, no." A look of disappointment falls on his expression before his lips twist with anger. "How is it _not_ relevant? They're on an enemy squad--"

"--with _your squadmates_ , Elliot, that you left during the season sign-ups," I reply sharply. "You screwed with their squad; it might be the only reason why we beat them. I'm just wondering if I should wait to see if history repeats itself, or remove you from the squad myself."

Elliot suddenly seems... hurt. But I start to think it wasn't because of me. "I told you already. I wanted to start to be better."

"Wait," I whisper, "You... admit it then?" He stares at me, regretfully. I thought he'd fight back. Like broken legs, my trust and anger break apart altogether. His gaze becomes striken with sorrow as my vision blurs. I say weakly, "Elliot, you made me trust you. I didn't _want_ to believe them. You made me-- _._.." I couldn't finish it. I begin to hear sounds in my headset, but my brain doesn't process them.

Elliot reaches for my hand, and I slap it away. His eyes become glassy. "Wraith, I made some... awful mistakes, okay? I wish I'd met you before anyone else in my life. You've seen some of the best sides of me because you make me feel like my best self. I was a piece of shit before, I'll admit it. But he ain't comin' back, I sw--"

Suddenly, gunshots pierce my shoulder, and I gasp in agony, my raw open skin throbbing in blood. Elliot pushes me out as he propels himself in the opposite direction, rolling out of the foilage as he charges up his Peacekeeper. Pathfinder's voice suddenly sounds clear to me through the headset. "I repeat, the squads have seen us! They're going to pinch us at this location if we don't return fire, friends."

I wipe my eyes quickly as I sprint towards cover. I lean behind a boulder and inject a quick syringe into me. 

Then, grenades fly past me, landing all around me. Three of them.

I couldn't move fast enough. The explosions immediately blow me from my cover, and I topple down to the next ledge. I can't feel my limbs at all-- the burns throb through my body as I groan and fidget against dirt and grass. "Wraith's down!" I hear Elliot's voice through the headset. "I'll get her up."

"N-no," I struggle as my hands begin to feel real again, "There's way too many, stay behind cover." I begin to hear rapid footsteps towards me. I look behind me, cautiously.

Suddenly, I see Pathfinder fly behind the approaching enemy squad-- he ends them all with Wingman headshots as he rode his grapple towards me. I blink in disbelief towards the fallen bodies. "Path, holy crap," I whisper.

Pathfinder cheers as he lands and kneels, putting me on my back, "I feel awesome! I hope my creator is watching." He takes out the emergency syringe from a backpack pocket.

I smile, though emotionally, I just want to put my face into a pillow. "Path... never stop chasing them," I say softly. I became envious of Pathfinder's faith in his creator-- maybe trusting someone who isn't there is better than to trust someone who is right beside you.

 


	22. [ anita vs elliot ]

// **bangalore's weaponry** , central market

Pathfinder won us the round yesterday, wiping out both remaining squads with an incredible fluid play, drawing headliners from every media source-- but our squad missed out on another proper celebration. I had to excuse myself to sleep early. I thought that I could sleep off all of the emotional exhaustion and confusion I felt, but when I woke up the next morning, I still felt so much chaos weigh me down.

At least I knew someone else, unrelated to Elliot and Bloodhound's issues, who'd listen to me.

It's morning. The young sunlight puts the market in a pale yellowish spell. I open the front steel door and hear a pleasant song playing. ([check YT audio!](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XksEuF_hoeA)) I didn't even notice the shop had speakers until now. I see Anita from behind as she rearranges some guns in the glass display cabinets, in her usual maroon combat armor.

"... _Walkin' ouh-- feels like ouh,_ " Anita hums in her alto voice, bumping her thighs and feets with firm rhythm. I hear metal clink as she rearranges another gun. " _Pull a swerve in the coup..._ " Seeing a gentler side to the hardened woman gave my chest a warm feeling.

I cough with a grin as my hip rests against one of the displays. She turns suddenly, and her typical sternness melts into a smirk. Her cheeks seem a bit redder. "Hah... Hey. Shop ain't open yet, but I guess now you know my secret." She sighs as she looks back at the guns. "I'm a lame dancer."

I chuckle as I glance at the nearby encased L-Star, a gun not yet approved for the Apex Games. I didn't really know what it did, but I was surprised to see Bangalore sell it. "Better than me. And if that's the only thing you're hiding from me, I'm way more impressed than you think."

Anita's shy smirk rests into a wide amused smile as she closes the display lid. "What can I do ya for?" she asks as she turns back around and scans my own combat gear. "Last time you came here in that outfit, I had to kick your ass," she teases.

I feel a bit more fiery. This woman spun me around already; I wasn't about to be caught by surprise again. "I've been training," I half-bluff as I cross my arms. "Try it again and it might turn out differently."

The dark woman takes a step between us, and then quickly stretches out her arm. I flinch into a defensive position, but her wrist slows down to a harmless speed-- she merely lightly pats my shoulder. "Save all that energy for after business hours, cutie," she purrs confidently.

I blush as my cheeks numb. "Oh." _I set that up way too easy for her._ I can tell Anita's tight dark lips were holding in a laugh as she crosses her arms back at me. I murmur, flustered as I straighten out, "Damnit, Anita. You always get me off-guard."

"Maybe you should stop underestimating me." The look in her eyes is serious this time. She leans on her hip, then brushes dark hair from my eyes. My face reddens, starting to fear what she means.

The front door behind me suddenly opens.

We look over. A tall tanned figure quickly shuts the door with staggered, tired movement-- I almost didn't believe it was Elliot. He's dressed more conservatively than usual; I don't think I've ever seen him in a maroon blazer. Of course, it looks fantastic on him, but it doesn't make it any more comfortable to see him here, right now.

I realize he's glistening with sweat as he sees me. "F-found you," he chuckles breathlessly as he looks at me. I blink, amazed that he even found me here. I hadn't been responding to his holo-comm messages. He smiles a bit. "Hey. And hey to you too!" He finger guns Anita with forced ethusiasm. "Was I interrupting?" Elliot looks between my flustered expression and Anita's smug smile. He frowns."Okay, I mean _obviously_ I was. But uh, here I am..." The man rubs the back of his neck as he murmurs with embarassment, "Oh man, this is rough."

"What are you doing here?" I blink at him. Anita and Elliot didn't strike me as friends.

I'm proven right as Anita snaps at him, "You buyin'? Or are you on your way out?"

Elliot's lips twist in annoyance, his breathlessness finally easing off. "Look, lady, I need to talk with Wraith. I've been looking for her and--"

Anita takes a protective stance between me and Elliot, replying, "She came to talk to _me_ , pretty boy. Don't you have cute toys in the Oasis to attend to?"

I frown, getting dizzy again as if I'm watching two worlds colliding. My lips press as I feel a sudden burst of anger between it all. "Stop, okay?!" I snap loudly, "You two can't decide for me who the fuck I'm talking to. _I'm right here._ " They look at me, their hostile expressions easing off.

"Wraith," Elliot says gently as his chocolate eyes bore into me. "I-I... have a lot to say. Please."

Anita scoffs as she steps back and leans on the distant display. "A lot to say, huh Mirage? I didn't know you ever shut up."

Elliot laughs humorlessly-- his eyes dim in an unfamiliar way, "You're r-really full of shit when you're jealous, aren't you Anita?"

"Elliot, _stop_ ," I say carefully, feeling as if I wasn't recognizing this side of him. But I couldn't stop Anita.

The sound of the clashing fists and aching metal walls thunders within the small shop. She lunges for him in a sudden dive, pinning him to his back against the wall. My heart is pounding louder than anything else. I'm unable to react at first. I'm frozen.

Elliot grunts loudly as the armored woman slams her fists across his face. Elliot grits his teeth as he kicks her back with surprising force, knocking her into the displays.

There's something deadly in Elliot's gaze, something I didn't understand.

The cracking glass gives Anita an even more furious look-- her eyes tell me she's ready for blood.

" _Stop, you absolute idiot!_ " I command as I grab Elliot's collar-- he yelps a sharp breath as I forcefully drag the 180lb man towards the door.

Before I leave, I glare harshly at Anita. "If you try to attack my squad outside of the Ring again, you'll wake up with yours dead." Anita's expression softens, but I don't linger to find out if she regretted anything. I kick Elliot's maroon-clothed back out of the door before I walk out and shut it behind me.

Elliot catches his breath as he turns to me, but I storm off before I bother to look at his stupid puppy face. "Wraith!" he calls out predictably as he chases after me. I start to sprint through the crowd, almost wordless anger in my throat. I came to Anita's place so I could destress.

But maybe I wasn't really angry at them. I couldn't think of them without feeling angry-- yet I feel more self-loathing than anything. It feels like I made everything got worse. _It's not even my fault, but it feels like it is. These two wouldn't have nearly killed each other if I just wasn't there._ I realize how it terrified me: the potential of losing either of them. I realize I've been biting my lip to stop from crying-- I'm bleeding.

_Damnit._

 

// **elliot's apartment** , late afternoon

I spent most of the day in my room, in bed but miserable and restless. It felt pathetic, but I couldn't do much else. I was paralyzed by the emotional chaos-- I've never felt anything like this. I didn't understand it. I wanted to talk to Ástin about it, but didn't want to dump my problems on them either. It didn't feel fair to do that. Around six hours after the incident, I work up the nerve to talk with Elliot. I knew I should hear what he has to say.

After a few knocks, Pathfinder open the door with a bright grin. The tall robot leans slightly to peer below the top of the doorway arch. "Friend!!"

I was in a sluggish mood and stare in mild surprise before remembering the new arrangement. "Oh, right," I smile, and cough. "Path. Settling in alright?"

"Oh quite," Path says cheerfully. "I have been charging on the red sofa you slept on to see whether it is good. It is great!"

"That's good to hear," I let out a chuckle. "Is Elliot there?"

Path tilts his head inside, then back at me. "Yes, in his room. He has been quiet for hours, however! He is most likely sleeping. Of course, there is always a chance he is dead."

"R... right," I keep my smile. "Let me in Path, I need to talk with him." He steps back obediently as I walk in the clean, stylish apartment. Path shuts the front door as I stare at Elliot's closed bedroom door. I've never been in there.

Path picks up a glass tablet, seemingly busy with something. I try to decypher what he's doing-- he seems to be loading pictures, considering them, then flicking them left or right.

"I'll need a moment to talk with Elliot alone, alright?" I say.

His whirling pupil looks up at me. "Oh yes, I'm quite busy anyway! Elliot has many friends, so many that he cannot keep up with them all at once!" A notification buzzes and Pathfinder clicks on it. His pupil shrinks as his screen flickers to a blushing smile. "Oh my! They are very eager friends, too. I am being friendly to them while Elliot is busy, as additional thanks for my stay."

I decide not to ask whether Path had actual permission to do that, and sigh with smirk, walking towards the bedroom. I knock tentatively on the door. "Elliot?" No response. "Elliot," I try again louder. Only silence, again. I cautiously begin opening the door.

Elliot's room is an unrecognizable mess compared to the rest of his apartment. The space was larger than I expected, or maybe the floor-to-ceiling windows made his bedroom seem even more vast. The tanned man is laying shirtless (but still wearing his maroon pants) on his stomach over the double bed, his head between his lax crossed arms. His back rises and sinks peacefully. It could've been a calming sight if I hadn't noticed empty bottles on almost every flat surface, and all sorts of shopping boxes were simply left untouched in the corner of his room.

I sit on the thick cushioned bed as I gently shove his shoulder. Even his soft exhales smelled like booze. "Hey," I whisper. "Wake up." He barely stirs. I shake his firm shoulder harder. "Hey, Elliot, get up."

"Mm?" He groans as his face turns sloppily. He sees me and strokes down his wide, built torso as he rises. I begin to notice the dark brush of hair along his chest, and how it slide a path down his shadowy abs. His scarred face suddenly reddens. "Whoa." He blinks at me. It almost feels like his sentences are missing a few words."Wha-what?"

"We should talk," I nod. "You wanted to earlier."

Elliot smiles before sliding a warm, large hand down my back. "Oh, baby," his roguish voice cooes. "We have all day for that. I missed you." My face feels hot with confusion, but suddenly, Elliot pulls my arm.

"Elliot, wake up," I say nervously.

He laughs, "You're funny. C'mere." With another tug, I realize he wants me to lay beside him.

"What?" I blush madly, his hand feeling hot against my skin. I think about our date-- I suddenly feel comfortable again when I look into his chocolate eyes. His gentle eyes.

He whispers dreamily as his eyes relax shut again, "Please. We can talk afterwards."

Something tells me that Elliot wasn't fully awake yet. And at the same time... I watch his hand, still gripping my arm. I should be angry at him, but I always struggled with staying angry at him. And his warmth, combined with my exhausted spirit, was pulling me in.

_What was cuddling like?_

I sigh. "You'll wake up if I play along, right?"

"Mhm," he says drunkenly.

Slowly, I lay down beside him. Elliot wraps his arm around me as he adjusts himself, and scoops my body with his-- our legs intertwine as I blush in vibrant colors. The alcohol smell was overpowering, but the bedsheets had a comforting hug of Elliot's real musk. He really was like a blanket around my body, and for some reason, I'm starting to mind less and less. I shut my eyes as I squeeze his arm with another hand. His heartbeat is constant and strong against my back. The man groans as he presses his hand down my arm, then my waist. I was too tired to think anymore. I didn't even feel myself drift off, as if reality was just a dream.


	23. [ always with her ]

 

// **elliot's bedroom** , midnight

No nightmares.

No paranoia.

I slept as peacefully as a girl with Void voices in her head could. There was nothing that could touch me, except Elliot. His deep sandy musk hugged me from every angle as his bare muscled arms and torso clung to me. I don't remember how I shifted in my sleep-- but I wake up groggily, colder than usual, as I see Elliot's scarred tan shoulders hunched and sitting up on the edge of the bed. The room is very dark, only lit by moonlight and casted in long shadows.

I can barely raise my face from the pillow in exaustion. I remind myself that the situation was entirely bizzare, yet I feel lax about it, as if this were another extension of our friendship. But why? How could this ever be natural for _me,_ of all people?

Before I could say anything to him, I yawn quietly. Elliot turns around, his arm pressing into the sheet as he leans over. "You a-awake?" he whispers, nervous.

All of my usual logic evaporates in my sleepy and selfish state. I didn't have time for the puppy's whining; I needed the cuddling back. "No," I groan as I shove my face into a pillow. Elliot is quiet, unmoving-- I can feel it even though my eyes are shut. Is he staring at me? "What?" I moan, getting annoyed. _I don't waaaant to talk. The sleep felt so good._

"Oh my god," he says in shock. "I _am_ awake?"

"Yes!" I finally shout as I rise off the pillow-- but I grab it and take it with me as I roll away from him. He has no idea how exhausted I've been the past few days.

Elliot chuckles before I hear him shuffle over the blankets to me. "What the hell?" he whispers amusingly. His face gets close to mine, right next to my ear. "How'd you go from hating me to cuddling me?"

I start to feel my cheeks heaten quickly-- I didn't even have a reasonable answer for him. I squeeze my pillow into my face. "I don't fucking know," I murmur, muffled. "I'm so tired, Elliot. Stop waking me up."

I could already see his wide, dumb smile in my mind. "Am I allowed to hug you still?" he asks almost whimsically.

"Yes, damnit," I grunt as I squeeze my eyes. The lingering sleepiness will escape me if Elliot keeps distracting me. His bed is also the softest bed I've _ever_ experienced. My bed is far more rigid than I realized.

I don't feel his embrace; he's hesitating. "You don't mind that I'm...?" His voice drifts as I hear his hand press across his bare chest.

"No," I relent quietly, relaxing my shoulders as I slip back into a foggier state. I feel him carefully clutch my waist as his torso inches closer, far more timidly and shy than the drunken Elliot. Heat rises in my stomach, realizing how close we really are. But I push it out of my mind as I sink deeper into the pillow. In that moment, rest was necessary above everything else. I fall asleep again as every tension in my body laxes completely.

 

// **the next morning**

I wake up with fuller senses-- I feel the back of Elliot's hand stroking my cheek. My vision adjusts to the new light as I squint at the trickster, laying beside me and facing me. His warm chocolate eyes search my expression; but I don't know what for. I blush, but surprisingly, I don't even flinch. My gaze still feels sleepy as I notice he's dressed in a white tshirt and jean shorts. His room is cleaner now, with far less opened bottles and bathing in warm early tints of sunlight. I feel a slight comfortable chill and hear birds chirping louder than usual; he had opened one of the windows a bit.

"I see why you have people over all the time," I murmur, starting to sit up as I rub my eyes. He stays sprawled on the bed, to his side, smirking to me with his usual confidence. I chuckle to him, "They're just trying to get a good night's sleep on this ridiculously comfortable bed."

He laughs with a grin, his leg folding up casually. "I get that a lot." He asks, maybe proudly, "You slept well?"

I feel my face heat up again. "Yeah. I, um..." I take a deep breath. "I just came here awhile after that whole event at Anita's store. I thought I'd listen to what you had to say, then--"

"Oh," Elliot interrupt with a sly smile, "you don't need to explain. I actually remember."

My blush worsens as I shift in my spot. "You seemed drunk out of your mind."

"A little drunk, but not too far gone," he shrugs. "This room had been a mess since... well, uh, since awhile. Haven't been having much company in here lately, actually."

"You were acting weird," I point out, still hot-faced. "You were acting like you knew me in a different way. You called me 'baby'."

This time, Elliot's face heatens quickly. He starts sitting up. "Yeah, uhh," he blurts anxiously, "It's a weird thing. I mean, not a _weird_ t-thing. It's just I--" He gives a high pitched sigh as he crosses his legs. "I started having dreams, okay? Dreams I don't usually get. Last night, I couldn't tell if I was in reality or not; I was too sleepy and, admittedly, a little drunk."

I breathe slowly, clutching the sheets, starting to understand. "You dream about us dating?"

He finally makes eye contact with me. His lips press as his embarassment reddens even his neck. "Look," he inhales and raises his palms towards me, "I don't get it either. I don't _get_ dreams like that, ever, except recently. Y'know, the brain is weird n' stuff. So, uh... don't take it personally."

Somehow, I feel slightly disappointed by that. "No problem. I won't," I force a smirk.

His nervous smile sinks into soft concern. "Oh, no, Wraith. I didn't mean it like--"

"No, it's fine," I sigh as I slide to the edge of the bed, away from him.

"Wraith, wait," the puppy panics. I look back at him, and see his wide, worried gaze. "I... I'm confused too. I thought I understood _everything--_ I told you I thought I'm a master at this stuff. Lately... I don't know. I just don't understand what I'm feeling lately." He purses his lips. "How do you feel about me, Wraith?"

I feel sad for a moment as I shake my head, "Elliot, please, don't make me answer that. This past week... my emotions have been a mess. I'm just making friends, I thought. But... I'm not. Not even with you." My eyes fall onto the white sheets. "I'm starting to think everyone wants me for themselves, and it's freaking me out. It's just like you predicted-- I'm emotionally compromised. Look at our last match; I'm useless."

"Ba--" His sunbeaten cheeks puff as he stops himself and coughs, "Wraith, you're not useless." The tanned man rests his hand between us on the sheets. "Listen. I just want you to be happy. _Anyone_ that cares about you would want that."

"You say that like I know how to be happy," I say weakly, my eyes stinging. "What's that supposed to mean? Surviving is all that mattered to me waking up-- I never expected _anyone_ to _care_ about me. Maybe that's why when certian people touch me, I let them. After that date, I started wanting to know what it means to be loved instead of used." Tears drip from my eyes as Elliot's brows press with concern. I think about how Elliot, and even Bloodhound, have broken my trust before.

I continue in a whisper, "But everytime, I still can't tell the difference."

He frowns, his eyes becoming glassy for me. "Wraith..." he whispers. "You don't owe me anything. Let me try to earn your trust back-- if I can't, I'll understand. I've been a stupid, lost kid who always got what he wanted growing up. Hard to say "no" to your last son, you know?" He smiles sadly. "I thought being a selfish kid meant I'd get anything I wanted." The smile turns into a gentle sigh as he says, "Then I met you."

I reply in a pained rasp, my chest aching, "I'm not angry anymore. I'm terrified. It always feels like I do owe you something, Elliot. I just don't know what it is."

His arm reaches for mine, but he pauses. I narrow my eyes. I can see the gears in his mind turning as he scans me-- Detective Elliot inches himself closer to me with a slight crawl. "Okay," he nods slowly, then sitting still. "Is there something you want to do to me then?"

I frown and flush red. "What??"

He smirks. "If you're only _letting_ people touch you, something tells me you're not used to making the initiative. Or you just don't know how." Elliot hums, "If you feel like you owe me something, what is it? I'm not sayin' it's physical or intimate or nothin'. But if it is, maybe that's why you're having a hard time understanding it."

I think hard. The feeling did start during the date-- I'm reminded of what Ástin said. _A primal feeling_. I blush harder.

"Come here," I tell him quietly. He smirks humoredly as he leans towards me. "Don't be so smug about it!" I protest as my heart jumps in my throat.

"I'm not, I'm not!" Elliot chuckles. The tall man has his neck inches from my nose, and I look up to his face. His comforting musk is so close to me now. He shuts his eyes.

I hesitate. But quickly, I briefly raise myself by the knees to kiss his upper cheek, above his dark, clean beard. Immediately, I feel relieved, as if part of the emotional chaos was unraveled. Elliot's eyes open as he blushes and smooths his beard as he looks away shyly.

I smile as I stare at the side of his face. "I did enjoy the date, you know. I guess I never really showed the proper appreciation for it."

He smiles widely back at me. "Damn," he says breathlessly. "Look, Wraith. I get it if you're being friendly with other people. Even if they want to earn your attention as much as Bloodhound and Anita do." He smirks weakly. "But part of me wants to make my dreams real, you know."

A flattered, hot smile rises on my face. "Elliot..." I start, regretfully.

He shakes his head. "That's the thing. Neither of us are equipped for a commitment like that. You're figuring your life out. And lately, so am I. But..." Elliot rests his large hand over mine, then squeezes it. "I'll be here, always. You might not know what that means, but I do." My eyes widen as he kisses my forehead then grins. "Come on. Let's see if the robot maid has breakfast for us."

I nod timidly, but speak outloud as I remember, "I need to shower first. I've been in this outfit for a long time."

Elliot's eyes dart to the bathroom door. "Oh! Y-yeah, of course," he says, anxious all the sudden. "Let me just get you a towel. There's _feen-ferm-feminine_ -smelling soaps in the bottom drawer near the shower." His face reddens deeply. "But uh, let me remove the camera first."

"A _camera??_ " I redden, shocked.

He laughs sheepishly, scratching his beard. "Sometimes me and my company like to see ourselves in the shower."

"Okay, but so what if you walk out with _one_ camera? How do I know there aren't more?"

He shrugs as he stands up from the bed, a hint of mischief in his stance now."You're gonna have to trust me.~" I groan, displeased. Elliot smirks and adds with crossed arms over his tight white shirt, "Or you could just shower _with_ me! We've already cuddled, it's not--"

He's suddenly muffled as I throw a pillow at his face, smirking."Hell no. I'll just shower at my place."

"But there really is only one camera!!" Elliot whines as he pulls the pillow away.

I roll my eyes before I laugh. "Okay, now that you're insisting it, it's _way_ more suspicious."

Why couldn't I ever stay mad at Elliot for longer than a few hours? It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair at all.

 


	24. [ pathfinder's discovery ]

// **elliot's apartment** , continued

A shower was out of the question, so I washed my face and then combed my hair. I'm a bit impressed by how throughly Elliot prepares for female visitors-- there's different scented soaps for me to use, and even a trash can in his bathroom. Mine hadn't even come with a trash can. I began tying my hair in a tight bun again as I walk out of the bathroom.

Elliot is in the middle of a yawn on his white-sheeted and made bed, hands interlocking behind his head. His jean shorts were rolled at the knees and made his legs look more built than usual. His lips relax as he looks towards me. "You can leave it down, if you want," he smiles as I swirl locks of hair with my fist.

"Why?" I ask.

"What? A guy can't have preferences?" Elliot teases.

I roll my eyes with a faint blush, and I reply with dismay, "I'm not leaving my hair down just to be your eye candy. It gets in the way."

He surrenders his hands as he sits up, "Okay, missy-- just wanted to help ya feel more _cuk-_ comfortable."

I smirk, unconvinced. "Maybe you can't have a camera in your bathroom and tell me how you're such an innocent guy." I finish tying the bun, and I look out Elliot's massive windows. Beyond the gritty city below, I could see the crystal blue ocean from here, and distant Leviathans-- massive dark rock formations lined the shorelines in chaotic patterns. I sigh, admiring the view. "Honestly? I'd cut my hair short. It's not like long hair does me any favors in the Ring," I admit. "But it's my proof, in a way-- how long I've been out of that facility."

"Mm," Elliot murmurs as I hear him get up. I look over at him as he gets behind me, and grabs my shoulders. He whispers, "Hey, are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

I furrow my brows. "No--"

He suddenly yells cheerfully but loudly towards the living room door. " _I'm starvingg~_ Where's my breakfast, teammate?!"

Quickly I swat his hands off me as I turn to him with furrowed brows. "Were you even listening? And do you seriously talk to Path like that??"

He grins mischievously. "Hey, you gotta be firm with your homeless teammate, or he'll take advantage of ya."

I blink, dumbfounded, "You're being a jerk to him."

Mirage keeps his grin as his eyes wander musingly. "Nah, I've just grown up with brothers."

"Ugh," I grunt before I stride towards the door to check on Path.

When I get to the living room, I'm surprised to see Pathfinder on the same sofa, looking at the same tablet, and-- as it would seem-- making the same swiping gestures that he was doing last night. He doesn't even glance at me. "Path," I say cautiously as I approach, "You've been on that thing all night?"

Path beeps in surprise as I speak, and then rapidly waves at me. "Friend!! Oh my. I have been so occupied with making new friends, I forgot to make my current friends their breakfast! I'll do that right away." Pathfinder's legs clank as he skips to the kitchen. _He always seemed eager about everything._ I smile.

Elliot walks in with a smug grin, "Good, get on it, roommate. Before I make ya pay rent." I glare at him again. He shrugs innocently before asking, "You think this place is cheap? What's Path been doing anyway?"

I gesture at his tablet. "He's been swiping left and right on that thing since I got here yesterday, talking with people apparently."

"He what?" Elliot stares blankly at me.

Pathfinder whirls cheerily as he takes out the eggs from the fridge, "Indeed! Having friends and networking is an important part of any squad!"

Elliot's composed expression suddenly turns faint with panic as he rushes to the sofa, sitting down and scrambling through his tablet. "Oh no. Oh my god. _OH NO_." The man's face is bent with anger. "Pathfinder, what the fuck? You _can't_ just _use_ my Outlandr account! And I told you when you were moving in: don't touch my shit!"

I feel confused. Path blinks from behind the counter with a cutting board, and replies straightforwardly, "And I told you I was not interested in your sh--"

Elliot interrupts, pointing a finger at Path as he demands, "Don't tell me you took that literally."

Silence.

"What was it supposed to mean?" Path asks innocently. Elliot's groan erupts the room, sinking into the red sofa as he slides his face into his palms.

I raise my hand. "Can someone tell me what Outlandr is?"

Elliot sighs as he looks at me, depression slumping his back. "It's a dating app. Basically, you swipe to show whether you're interested in talking to someone, and if they swipe to like you back, you get to talk with them. My profile is... _was_... pretty popular."

I raise a brow at him, not quite understanding. I sit beside him and lean curiously towards the tablet. "Okay... what's so bad about it now?"

Elliot gives me a sad puppy face as he pulls up one of the conversations and gives it to me. "I sent my first message," he frowns. "Read what Pathfinder followed up with."

 

**_MelonKisses_xo_ **

Is this the real Mirage? I've been thinking about riding you all day. <3

**_Elliot Witt_ **

Holographs can't type, so you bet your sweet apple cheeks it's the real me. Are your freckles real?? Jeez woman!

 

"Okay, first of all, who has a name like MelonKisses??" I snap, strangely upset. "That isn't a fucking real name." Elliot just smirks at me, which made me even more mad. I keep reading.

 

**_MelonKisses_xo_ **

OMG I can't believe you really said that. I looove that. <3 Glad you like them, I'd love to introduce you. When can we meet up? ;)

**_Elliot Witt_ **

Hi friend! I am currently in bed with another woman, and there is a queue of 63 other people whom would like to join me afterwards! Can I add you to the list? :)

**_MelonKisses_xo_ **

Wtf?? Knew this was a troll account. Reported, enjoy getting banned sweetie.

 

I gasp loudly, and press my hand over my mouth. Elliot whines, "See? It's--" I cut him off as I explode in laughter, my stomach actually hurting as I fold over. "How is that funny?!" the puppy cries. "He did this to _sixty-three_ other people."

I look up and see Pathfinder, who is looking down sadly at the eggs with a worried monitor. "I evaluated your messages and thought I was helping," he whirls sadly. Then his tone returns to a friendly candor as he informs. "You see, your method of attaining new friends had a reasonable gap for insustainability. Especially lately! Your rate for sending messages decreased by 89.4% since joining our squad! So I plotted a method to attain a coordinated date of meeting as effectively as possible. Also," he beeps a bit more optimistically, "I contacted nearly four hundred, seventy-eight people. Sixty-three were merely the ones who accepted my offer of companionship! Or, _your_ offer, they presume."

Mirage's stare tightens into an annoyed glare. "Oh yeah?? Anything else, Elliot 2.0?"

Pathfinder's screen turns into a blushing smile; which is concerning. "The first one to accept the offer was a member of Bloodhound's squad! Known as Gibraltar in the Ring. You friends remember him, yes?"

I blink. "Yeah..." I look at Elliot, who actually seems like a ghost now. "I remember Elliot kicking his side after he went down, and saying Bloodhound needed better teammates." Which is more screwed up, now that I knew Elliot used to be teammates with them. Still, I smirk proudly to Pathfinder. I'm amazed. _That robot has no idea how hilarious he is._

Elliot says weakly to Path, "Of all the people... Makoa is the first one in the queue huh?"

I hear the hot sizzling of the pan, but Path multitasks as he begins peeling a pear. "Indeed," he replies. I watch Path carefully; his voice is starting to seem more expressive and human to me. "I said he could come over this morning! It's best not to fall behind on a queue of sixty-three people." The robot pauses as he puts the peeled pear in a blender stock and then takes out a bunch of mint, cutting it up. "You shouldn't be terribly surprised, Elliot," Path notes. "You two were dating and then you never contacted him again after joining Wraith's squad! I only know that because he left you 36 messages."

I slowly look to Elliot, my eyes narrowed. _Not only did Elliot abandon his squadmates, but also his boyfriend?_ How manipulative did he get? He chuckles nervously to me. "Okay, it's _not_ as bad as you think," the puppy says as he shrinks back into the sofa.

"Convince me." I cross my arms beside him.

Elliot says, sweat shining over his forehead and neck, "It's, uh... okay, Makoa-- that's his first name by the way-- has an open relationship with his other boyfriend. They got cozy with me, so I kinda joined in, y'know? But I thought things were _casual_. They thought I was committing to a poly relationship."

I sigh as I rub the bridge of my nose, frustrated. "Damnit, Elliot. Why the hell do you get yourself in so much trouble all the time?" It was nice having a real break from everything last night, but we had responsibilities. I just wanted to get our squad practice done today, not deal with Elliot's sudden sex queue.

Elliot groans as he looks through the tablet, showing increasing hopelessness in his expression as he clicks through each conversation. "I don't know, Wraith," he admits lowly, not looking up at me. "Sorry... I'm still just a stupid kid, after all."

I frown. I stare at his hiding ashamed face for a moment before sighing. "Well, Makoa isn't here yet, so we can still--"

As if on cue, there are heavy knocks at the front door. We all share glances at each other. Pathfinder claps his hands, "Yay! Your first friend is right on time!"

 _So much for calling it off_.


	25. [ makoa / prey chasing predator ]

// **elliot's apartment** , continued

Pathfinder takes a few energetic steps towards the doorway, intending to open it first-- but Elliot stands up, raising his hand to the MRVN unit. "Wait, Path," he says quietly before sigh. "I'll talk to Makoa. He's a nice dude, it won't take long."

"Are you kidding me?" I raise my brow. "He left you thirty-six messages. He has a _lot_ to say." I sigh, thinking from my seat on the sofa. The boys look at me expectingly. "If we want him to go away sooner than later, let me answer it," I decide as I get up from the sofa, crossing my arms. "I mean, do you really want Path and I to be around when you and Makoa finally have a proper talk?" I shrug. "I wouldn't."

I tried to put it in a way that Elliot would understand, but my motives were more practical. Our next drop was tomorrow. With the pool of contestants getting smaller, the rounds were becoming far more close together than before, and I wasn't about to waste a practice.

Elliot gives me a long look before a small smirk. "Don't make me look bad; that's my job," he winks. He walks off into his bedroom and closes the door.

I get in front of the entryway, but before I open it, I hear Makoa's deep-set voice, with an unfamiliar accent. "Elliot, I just wanna talk with ya."

I sigh as I turn open the doorknob. I blink as I see a giant of a man-- somehow, despite Makoa's casual bright yellow button-down shirt and jeans, he seemed even larger than I remembered. He might even be near Pathfinder's height. I say firmly, "Elliot's not here right now. Pathfinder got ahold of his Outlandr account and--"

"Oh, I know, miss," Makoa suddenly grins. His whole body seems to carry a welcoming warmth, as if he truly cared about everyone he met. I keep my guard up. "You think I can't tell the difference between a man and a robot? I've seen yuh squad. Elliot's wayy too lazy to make a line for people wantin' to get in here."

"Right," I nod. "Well, he's not here. We're about to look for him for our squad practice."

Makoa's grin rests into a smile. "Heheh. Of course, miss." I raise a brow, skeptic of his intentions.

"Call me Wraith. You're very friendly though we beat your squad in the first round," I say cautiously. "You don't seem to be taking that very personally."

Makoa's stance rests easy as his eyes light with amusement. "Gibraltar is a legend of the Apex Games-- I'm used to winning _and_ losing. The name's Makoa if you see me outside the Ring." He stretches out a hand. I grab it with mine, until suddenly, his giant hands shake my whole body, it feels like. I tilt back and forth rapidly as he joyfully shakes my hand.

As he lets go, the man releases a loud belly-slapping laugh. I put my palm on my forehead, trying to fight the dizzy feeling. "By the seas, you gotta fatten up or you'll float away, sista!" Then, his eyes lax into a sly look. "Well, it was nice to finally meet Bloodhound's little secret," he whispers with a knowing smirk.

I blush, realizing I did begin missing Ástin. "Whatever that means, it's not what you think," I mutter, glancing in the hallway for passerbys. Then, I look back up at Makoa, concerned. "Where did you hear that from?"

He scratches his torso with a smile, replying, "Just a little smart guessin'. Hard to ignore the way they talk about you." My brows furrow slightly as he looks smug for a moment. His expression suddenly becomes more serious. "But I didn't come for just Elliot. I'm doin' a favor. Came to send Bloodhound's message, too, miss-- they couldn't find you yesterday."

"What?" I murmur, surprised.

Makoa says lowly, "Caustic's been outta recovery since late yesterday. Bloodhound thinks he's looking for you again." He starts walking off, waving, " _Tofa_ , Wraith. James and I say hi to Elliot."

My hands and feet feel cold; I must be an idiot. I had pushed Alexander out of my mind for too long-- now he's a danger to us again.

 

// **outside of outlands oasis** , 20 min later

The training had to be called off. We weren't stupid enough to walk into a trap twice-- and this time, I knew to keep Alexander healthy enough to keep talking.

The boys weren't going to let me handle Alexander alone; that wasn't a surprise. I already knew they cared too much to look the other way. I convinced Elliot to take us to the Oasis, but for us to keep our combat gear this time. Maybe I hadn't showered yet, but there wasn't time to waste. Oasis is going to let me in whether they liked it or not. Midday were odd hours for a place like this anyway; it's far more attractive when its dark. We see the tall and elegant red doors from afar, framed in gold floral metalwork. At night, it was glowing and lovely. In daylight, the nearby litter and scraps and dirt on the walls made the place seem far less celestial. Cursive white lights spell out the bar's name-- thought one of the "s" letters flickers. It was hard, even for an upscale place, to keep everything in 100% working order in the Outlands. The surrounding streets were cleaner than most, at least.

"How do you know they'll be here?" Elliot grunts. "I don't e-even think we _need_ Bloodhound to find this guy."

I consider Elliot's point-- _Bloodhound isn't someone that likes to be found, even by me_ , I think. I notice Pathfinder step away from us, towards a squealing baby bird on the ground. He gingerly cups it in one hand, and grapples to the top of the neon lights, place it back in a hidden nest behind the "O" in 'Oasis.' I smile at the kind robot.

"If they're not here, theres a good reason for it," I say as I watch Path. I cross the street towards the bar. "Bloodhound wants to help me; that's how I know I'll find them." I nod to Elliot as I step up the curb. "This is the only place I found Bloodhound first. They promised me they'd be with me when I see Alexander next."

"Really? When did they said was that?" Elliot raises a brow as he steps beside me. I give him a cautious look. "Okay, nevermind," he smirks. "It's just, y'know, they're trying to _kill_ me and everything, so I didn't think you guys are still buddies."

 _Oh, right; I never told him_. "I talked firmly with Bloodhound on that. They aren't hunting you anymore," I nod as I push my bangs out of my eyes. "I made sure of it."

Pathfinder beeps with a smug monitor as he walks beside me, "See Elliot? Wraith is extremely efficent with her connections."

Elliot suddenly raises his hands dramatically. I roll my eyes, already expecting an overreaction. "Oohh," he taunts cooly, "So when _I_ say 'yeah, please don't try to kill me dude,' Bloodhound doesn't give a shit. But when _you_ say 'oh, pretty please don't kill Mirage'--" Elliot splits off a clone, who stands beside him and crosses their arms in a bitter stoic imitation of Bloodhound. The clone pouts: " _alllll_ the sudden the gods ' _vill_ ' it for me to live."

I smirk, only half-amused as I traverse up the front red carpeted steps. "You can't expect me to explain their religious beliefs. All I can tell you right now is that Bloodhound thinks they owe me a favor." There wasn't enough time to give Elliot the full story.

He frowns, seeming unsatisfied by the answer; but he rushes ahead and opens the door for us. I didn't expect the gesture, and nod in thanks as I take a step in. I only had a moment to take in the grand room for the second time, and [the hits of a jazzy bass mixed with a sultry voice](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LdRx3TRLqWc).

"Stop," someone brutish demands. I look quickly between the four security guards staring down at us. I realize the voice came from the tallest woman of the group, with a piercing short red-haired look. "Leave behind any weapons," she commands. Her eyes scan Elliot. "Your holographic contraptions too, Mr. Witt." The music becomes more clear as the conversational hum of the room vanishes for a moment. Patrons at the bar glance at us, before, once again, resuming to the usual murmurs. The interior had two open floors, centered around a massive, beautiful circular bar. It had people, but still not crowded as it is at night. I glance around to see if I had eyes on Bloodhound anywhere. The woman wasn't have any of it. "I asked for your weapons," she snaps at me.

I glare back. "We're not here for trouble. I just need to find--" Elliot tries to intervene, grabbing my arm and shaking his head at me.

The red-haired woman glares. "Weapons. _Now_." She wasn't relenting. Elliot lets go of me and takes a smooth stride to the guard.

"Is that a new lipstick, Miss Maeve?" Elliot winks at her. The woman's glare tightens. He leans back and laughs, "Haha! Classic Maeve. C'mon, we're just lookin' for someone in the main bar, not your beautiful hosts backstage," Elliot explains sweetly. "It should only take a minute."

"The Oasis has rules-- you're well-acquainted with them. If you can't follow them, look for your friend somewhere else, Mr. Witt," Maeve crosses her arms.

Suddenly, steps come from behind me. A warm hand grabs my left shoulder gently. "Ma'dam Maeve, thath vwon't be necessary," the voice's silky accent states quietly. I look up at Ástin's unmasked cheekbones and blue eyes, their blonde hair pulled back in a long, handsome ponytail. They're wearing a simple white blouse and brown slacks today, and look as elegant as ever with it. "I'll escort them to a private room, vhere they cannot trouble our guests." Bloodhound smirks. "Also, Mr. Witt is only astute in his observations. Your lips look particularly flattering today, Ma'dam Maeve."

To our amazement, the security guard blushes a bright red. "Thank you, _sjef_." She takes a step back and nods to us. "Follow them-- and nowhere else. We'll be watching."

Elliot didn't seem happy that his flattery came across flat compared to Bloodhound. He crosses his arms insultedly towards them, narrowing his gaze. "Did she just call you 'chef'? What, are you a cook here?"

Bloodhound turns and starts to lead us around the bar, with nearby patrons seeming too drunk to care. " _Sjef_. It means 'boss' in Norweigen," they reply simply.

The three of us follow them, but pause between steps to share surprised glances at each other. "Whoa," Elliot blurts, "Hold on. _You_ opened 'Oasis'?"

Bloodhound taps a plain door in the wall. It suddenly opens, far thicker than I imagined with additional bolted seals. They hold it open for us. "I did not," they whisper with a small smile-- a volume high enough for us to hear, but low enough to be drowned out by music to anyone else. "I aquired it in a business trade. It was a very high caliber, highly classified deal; you wouldn't have known unless the staff told you."

I press my lips as Elliot stops and looks at me, brows raised. "Oh okay. Makes sense-- if, like, uh... l-literally anyone could explain that to me."

"Just get in the room, Elliot," I sigh.

 

// **the private room** , outland oasis

As soon as the door shuts, the music is dead from inside here. The decor was equally elegant in the private room, but felt more like a negotiation area than anything else. Bookshelves, artifacts like paper maps and printed photographs, and various expensive-looking decor lined the walls. It was almost _too_ nice-- it was intimidating. In the center, two white sofas were placed facing each other, with a marble-like coffee table inbetween.

"Take a seat." Bloodhound closes the bolted door behind us.

I look around in awe as I sit in the corner of the closest sofa. "Did you collect all this, or was it the previous owner's?" I ask. Pathfinder starts spinning a nearby wooden globe at a fierce speed, and his voice whirls with excitement. I frown at him, and pat the sofa, signalling him to sit down. Path looks at me with a shy frown in their monitor-- and then spins the globe with one more slap, before hopping to sit down.

"Oh cool, a bunch of paper. Big deal," Elliot grunts as he slouches in the seat besides Path.

Ástin's heels tap at a steady pace towards the other sofa. They sit down, knees spread apart as they lean forward seriously. "I created this room. This is the only addition I ever made. I do have clients to attend, so while I enjoy seeing you endlessly, _ástvinur_ ," they smile warmly to me, "I suggest you use my time wisely."

Elliot snaps as he straighens in his seat, "Okay, first of all, what's _aust_ -ain- _auk_ -v-veen..." He scowls. "... or whatever that word was??" I try not to giggle; I didn't think Elliot would feel so threatened by Bloodhound's eloquent nature.

Ástin seems equally amused as they reply slyly, "I cannot translate that word as easily." Their brilliant eyes look towards me again. "I assume you recieved my message."

I nod. "Do you know where Alexander is?"

Ástin's eyes fall slightly. "Unfortunately, Alexander is making more precarious measures to preventh detection. All I can tell you is the information I've recovered." Slips of blonde hair fall from behind their ear as they nod. "Alexander Nox's name in the IMC was Zackery Bazel. He was sent to a facility on a desolate sector of Solace, and was one of the caretakers of subject 'Wraith'." My eye contact with Bloodhound feels strained as my chest aches. They look pained as they continue, "There are several counts of extended subject cell occupation, v'here Alexander would be taking care of you or testing you for any given reason." My eyes widen-- I think of the faint scars of fingernails I saw on Alexander's face, and how it chilled me to my bones when I saw it. "He v'ent missing after the facility was destroyed, like many of the researchers."

I feel the concerned gaze of Elliot and Path, but I can't look back at them. "That can't be right," I say shakily. "He said I called him Alexander."

Bloodhound leans back and replies plainly, perhaps only to make it easier to accept for me. "I know for certain thath he v'ent by Zackery. Perhaps he admitted his secreth to you-- or you found out on your own."


	26. [ path's questions / the real apex games ]

// **elliot's apartment,** 9 hours later

We tried everything.

Time was precious, but, in the end, wasted. Elliot had decided to visit the Apex HQ to see if he could ask around and pick up clues there. Pathfinder went to fly by the local settlements for any trace of him. Bloodhound convinced them that they'd keep me safe while they were gone-- but when they left, Bloodhound sent Ajay with me to check the Scavenger for clues to Caustic's whereabouts.

All of us failed. Alexander had hidden himself too well this time.

Despair hits me as I sink deeper into Elliot's maroon sofa, darkened by the night shadows. We thought it'd be unwise for me to stay in my room tonight; the best thing we could do is make sure Alexander doesn't pick us off, one-by-one, before the drop tomorrow. Elliot insisted that I shouldn't, but I'm sleeping in my combat outfit just in case. All the lights are off; I should be sleeping right now. Pathfinder just wanted to do me a favor before I did.

His pupil whirls as he steps closer from the kitchen, handing me a hot mug. His bright smile lights up the room in yellowish light. "Here, friend. A herbal tea to help you rest!"

I squint towards him and accept the mug with a slumped smile. "Heh. Thanks, Path, I need that." The lanky robot falls in the seat beside me, and I adjust my seat as his weight almost pulls me in. I manage to chuckle before looking down at my tea. The apartment is quiet; Elliot might be asleep already. He really worked hard for me today. "It just makes me sick to my stomach," I admit sadly to Path, "how you guys are in real danger because of me."

Path's headlight flickers. "You worry a lot, Wraith." I look up at him, surprised by the observation. Path is always becoming more and more human-like to me; his persistant optimism once felt like a persona I could never understand. I smile, starting to see Path feels beyond his own limits of expression. The robot continues, "You risk yourself for your own benefit-- so do we for you! We agreed to risk ourselves for each other when we became a squad, and thus, friends." He nods. "There is nothing unstable about the variables in our friendship. I only wish I could help you like Elliot did."

I redden slightly, assuming this is another one of Path's innocent misunderstandings. "What do you mean by that?"

Pathfinder looks away as his monitor shows a worried emote of his own. "I have noticed that Elliot has a particular effect on you-- an effect I cannot calculate how to replicate." He looks at me slowly. "Have you ever felt that way about someone, friend?"

"N-no," I stare, amazed. "Path, I don't know what you're talking about. You're an amazing and important friend to me."

Path shakes his head. "I am not saddened, Wraith. I enjoy being your friend! In fact, I wish you had slept in Elliot's room again, because you seemed so well-rested the last time!" I redden deeper but Path continues with a thoughtful emoji, "I suppose it has to do with mortality. Humans are insistent about ownership; they demand land, people, objects. Truthfully, I do not understand what it is like to 'own' anything aside my own components!"

I push dark hair behind my ear as I listen carefully, sipping my tea with my other hand. It had pleasant notes of peach and camomille. "Path, maybe people need ownership because they want proof of their accomplishments."

"No," he refutes bluntly, "Not in the case of relationships. Many--not all!--but many humans desire to love and be loved exclusively with one life partner. But why have only one lover? Love is often represented as an elevated capacity for compassion and empathy. Why become jealous if love is expressed to someone else? If love is universal, why is love treated as a thing to be owned, or an accomplishment?"

I press my lips. "Maybe it is an accomplishment." I watch the tea water shift in my cup. "It's something you have to work for, from scratch, with every person you meet." I smile, knowing that I'm echoing Elliot's advice to me. "I don't know what love is yet; that's why I'm not in there with Elliot tonight, Path." I sigh. "It's not fair to take advantage of other people's emotions for my benefit when I can't share them-- like just pretending to be a friend."

Path asks, "Is he in love with you?"

My heart skips, but I frown at his near-silhouette, lit only by his face and monitor. "I... don't know." I think of the gentle way Elliot looks at me, and how he holds me-- and I feel my stomach flip in anxiousness. I pause, and repeat, "I don't know. But it feels wrong to sleep in his room if I don't know how I feel."

"I see." He continues staring at me. Path's tone almost sounds relieved-- but I immediately feel crazy for thinking that.

I tilt my head up at him, placing the tea on the coffee table. "Why are you asking all this again, Path?"

"I realized humans easily imagine Elliot as available-- someone they'd like to consume the attention of." The robot's posture weakens. "I do not understand that feeling. I think I was wondering why I never wanted to own anyone; I am content if my friends are happy." He looks at his lap. "I wonder if I am incorrect for feeling this way. Perhaps ownership and selfishness is excluded from my programming entirely. Perhaps it is a flaw. I could eternally share someone, but they will never be shared with me."

I smile, suddenly feeling relief of my own. "You and I have the same dilemma then; I don't know what it means to make someone mine. Maybe... I can't make myself trust people enough to want it bad enough."

Pathfinder looks at me, and his monitor pops a smile. "Will you tell me when you've found your answer, friend?"

I nod sloppily, interrupted by a wide yawn. I flush as I cover my mouth, and begin to slump towards my side of the sofa. "I will, Path," I say as I exhale. I smirk to him as I rest my face on the arm of the sofa. "Goodnight."

Path stands up, and hands off the blanket Elliot left for me, which had been resting on the other end of the sofa. He beeps cheerfully, "Sleep well, Wraith."

I close my eyes, relaxed and peaceful for once. Path always helped make me feel a little less alone.

 

**// ???**

I'm in a large ship, perhaps a cargo hold-- but I'm not taking the leisure of looking around. The smell of smoke and unbearable searing pain envelops leg. I try to focus. I see text.

> VALIDATING NEURAL LINK....

> ERROR/ERROR/ERROR/ERROR

My vision is strange, mechanically detailed, and includes a chaos of numbers on the left side, seeming to calculate themselves. Yet, the radio static is loud in my helmet. "Addy!" I call out hopelessly as my white-armored arm tries to wave smoke from my face. I couldn't understand what I was saying: only what it sounded like. " _Addy!!_ " For such a terrifying situation, I was level-headed enough to angle my right leg in the perfect position, kicking my left leg free from a fallen hot metal beam. It was a rather large beam-- how did I have the strength to move it?

Suddenly, someone grabs my shoulders with bitter force, and throws me off to the side. I stumble, hitting a hot metal wall. I huff heavily, barely having the strength to breath. I realize my side felt cold. I pat it and look down. Blood. A sickly amount of it. My vision blurs despite my efforts to focus-- I couldn't see where the sanguine flow begins and the cloth ends.

"This is gettin' on my nerves," a gruff voice states with a casual stride of footsteps towards me. I hear their knees bend. Then, my helmet is ripped off me, causing my lip to bleed as it knocks against it. I groan as my vision barely captures the blonde-haired man leaning towards me. There's burning carnage around us.... and his accent is familiar. "Oi! You pilots keep gettin' younger. Funny. It's like ye never get the damn message." I realize the man is muscular, and strapped with almost casual-looking combat gear. He shrugs with innocent flair. "I don't give a fuck about you kids anymore."

I spit blood between my teeth towards him; he doesn't flinch. I feel it drip down my cut lip and chin. "What is it? The Apex Games?" I demand. I begin to see their blueish eyes, despite the heat and hue of orange flames around us.

His eyes pierce into mine as he chuckles darkly. "It's gonna be  _fun_. Lose your fuckin' moral high horse for once, kid."

" _Liar!_ " I scream defiantly, even though it hurts. Goddamn does it hurt. Every shred of my torso begs for relief, my own blood filling the floor beneath me. "You're a greedy man. You don't host fucking... chess tournaments for fun!" I cough, reaching my verbal limit as my torso shudders. My vision darkens as I feel my strength slipping.

His finger raises. "That's where you're wrong," he replies dryly. "I'm doin' the Frontier a favor. It's falling apart, gal. How do you think we're gonna settle our differences?  _Ova' a cuppa tea?_ Everyone becomes a terrorist in the 'peace,' and  _especially_  the Militia." A pause, only the crackle of fire snapping in the room. He smiles gruesomely. "I enjoy these talks. Too bad they're so short." I feel anger boil in my throat.

"Liar," I whisper accusingly, again. "I know why you're  _really_  doing this." There's a device on my wrist-- maybe it's too shattered to work. But maybe it can still buy me enough time. I tense my arms, preparing them. "You'll never find her."

The man's expression falls, once humored but now twisted and deadly. "What do ye know, bitch?"

I remember his name:  _Kuben Blisk_. It's rolling off my tongue slowly, as I mutter: "It's almost like what you always told us, Blisk. If I kill you, I'm better." My hand shakes, ready to slam into my phase device, and I manage a bloody grin. "If you kill me? You're better-- but she still gets away. She  _wins_."

 

//  **elliot's apartment** , dawn

I shudder as I wake, sitting up at an unsettling, stomach-sickening speed. I breath paranoia, searching the room for anything-- but I only find Elliot's stylish apartment and Pathfinder standing in the corner of the mahogany kitchen, charging in sleep mode. Everything is hardly more visible than it was before; dawn barely touches the horizon, offering only a faded peach-like light to the living space.

This isn't like waking up from a regular dream, not even a nightmare. I knew it couldn't be either. My eyes are wide open. My skin feels alive and cold at the same time. A part of me returns, and part of my inner chaos unwravels again.

Finding Alexander is more crutial than ever-- he had less to hide. I know I was a Pilot. Kuben Blisk was looking for someone, and I tried to kill him for it.

Euphoria takes over me; tears of relief fall from my eyes. Something is happening, or triggering me-- my dream about the pierced tongue wasn't fiction. I'm remembering who I was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore note: This might be difficult to draw conclusions from if you aren't familiar with the Titanfall series. Kuben Blisk was the leader of the antagonistic force, Apex Predators: a powerful mercenary group contracted by the IMC to lead the charge against the Militia during the Frontier Wars. Now, (by confirmed lore in one of Apex Legend's cinematics) Blisk is involved in the Apex Games. ;) Totally recommend watching Titanfall Blisk scenes on YT! Very cool character.


	27. [ fourth round / octavio ]

// **elliot's apartment** , continued

I rub my wet eyes in that dim room. I couldn't believe it: my memory is coming back. As the overwhelming relief stays, it becomes reality instead of a daydream.

"... _Boys!_ " I yell with a grin. I throw off the blankets as Path suddenly wakens, his monitor flickering when his shoulders jolt up, alarmed.

"Wraith? Friend??" Path blinks with concern. I laugh slightly at his cluelessness, my feet pushing me for Elliot's door. I run-- my dark hair bun bumps against the doorframe, disshoveled, as I slam his door open into the dark bedroom.

Elliot's shirtless again under his soft thick blankets, but I was loud enough for him to be waking up already. He groans, only his shoulders truly visible to me. "Elliot!" I smile widely. "Come on, wake up." I skip to the edge of his bed, eager for him to get up and share the news. Pathfinder's steps squeak behind me as he joins me.

The man rises his face slowly from a sloped position, part of his wavy hair matted in different direction from the rest. I've seen it before, but this is the first time I'm noticing how cute it is. His voice still groggy as he yawns, "Huh?" One of his eyes peek open as his forearms begin to raise out of the blanket. Even while sleepy, Mirage doesn't miss a beat.

He smiles sluggishly as his eye shuts again. "A little early for a threesome, isn't it guys?" He takes a wide folded stretch of his arms behind his head-- my smile disappears as I blush. It wasn't what he said. I watch the blanket slowly slip off his tan, muscular torso, revealing the tight folds in his abdomen in a strangely attractive dim light.

I grab a nearby pillow and slam it into his shoulder. The puppy yelps from the attack."Stop!!" I complain, red-faced. "Can't you take something seriously for five minutes, Elliot?"

Elliot grunts as he finally gets up, which didn't actually help me. His torso is on full display as his biceps become tense, rubbing his eyes before stretching in front of him. He chuckles, "Okay, okay! What the heck is going on, woman?" I stare hard at his expression to avoid glancing elsewhere, my face steaming. Why was it so much harder to look at him now? I've cuddled him-- why was I feeling so self-concious _now_? Elliot suddenly laughs with a flattered smirk. "Oh, sorry," he apologizes playfully, "am I distracting you? Do I need to put on a shirt?" He winks smoothly.

"No! Unless-- _yes!_ " I agree with confusion. I squeeze my eyes and pinch the bridge of my nose, trying to focus again. "Elliot, damnit. I remember who I was!"

He blinks, impressed; then, he points at himself suavely. "Did these pecs almost make you forget agai--"

I hit him with the pillow again, my face reddening deeper. " _This is important!!_ " I shout in protest as Elliot bursts out laughing this time. Suddenly, Path grabs a secondary pillow from behind me.

"This looks like fun, friends!!" he cheers before swinging the pillow with significant robotic force, smacking Elliot straight up his jaw. He whimpers with a _'yow!'_ as he nearly falls halfway over the edge of his bed.

"Wait," I suppress a laugh as I pull back Path's arm. "Not that hard, Path."

Elliot recovers himself as he rubs his forehead. "Jeez-- how come you didn't hit her??"

Path's screen shows a wide grin, ignoring Elliot's question. "Did I win?" he beeps brightly.

 

// a few minutes later

We all sat around the bed as I explained my dream: the realness of the sensations, how detailed my instincts and thoughts felt to me. The further along my explaination became, the more confident I felt.

"You're a _Pilot_?" Elliot stares at me open-mouthed, his expression frozen in shock.

I nod, sitting beside him, where I fell asleep nights ago. "For the Militia. I still don't know what my name was." He smooths his beard in thought, awe in his gaze.

Pathfinder couldn't imitate my crossed-legged sitting position, but wanted to sit on the bed with us-- instead, the robot hugs his knees. He notes positively, "This makes sense, actually. It must be why your movement is so efficient." I smile, thinking about the compliment pragmatically. He wasn't wrong-- Pilots were known to be some of the most fast-paced and graceful combat in the galaxy. It would explain a lot of my natural instincts and tactics.

The sun was coming up now; our faces were lit with brighter oranges. Elliot smirks, his eyelids still lax with slight sleepiness. "So you were sent to kill one of the most dangerous men in the Frontier, huh? _And_ lived." He exhales brightly. "I knew our gal was special.~"

"'I don't know what my mission was exactly, or what the outcome was," I reply with a faint blush. "Simply remembering fighting Blisk doesn't tell me enough; maybe I wasn't even supposed to. It's only a start."

 

// **apex headquarters, docking station** , 2 hours later

My planned wake-up call for the boys wouldn't have been too much later; our round was the first of the day.

The Apex Games' docking station was once a medium-sized IMC dock for cargo ships-- it's seen even more use since those days. The Games did maintain it, but only to a minimum degree. The thick metallic hulls of the starion were dark and stained from age, while the small details of the arcitecure, like stair railings, had bullet holes or were missing entirely. As soon as we step into the open air of the docks from the interior upstairs lobby, the humming of ships and machinery are almost ear-breaking; plenty of people, like Elliot, brought their own earbuds. Path could always adjust his mic sensitivity. As for me, I just didn't care enough for the extra comfort.

There's already a crowd swarming the ground floor, in the painted fenced loading zone beside our dropship. We rush down the long stairs to join them, barely able to hear the clanking beneath our feet. The boys are hasty in front of me. I'm close behind, but suddenly, I notice a bird land on the step below mine. I freeze my movement. It's a dark raven.

I stare at it for a minute, looking for a slip of paper or another message from Bloodhound... But its bare. I slowly step around it and continue downstairs. I feel a gust of wind on my back, then a small grasp on my suit. I blink as the bird perches itself on my shoulder; I smile. I didn't understand why Ástin kept themselves as mysterious as they did-- but I guess this is their way of watching over me.

 

// **cascades** , king's canyon

Last two squads. Bright midday light showers over the Cascades, but we were only emerging from the hillside shadows.  Elliot murmurs behind me, "Wait... the damn bird is _still_ there?"

I check around me as I jog down the cliffside, toward one of the large buildings stilted over the shallow river-- sure enough, the raven is perched on a tree nearby, watching me. "Yep," I smirk.

Pathfinder whirls in the distance, kneeling over an adjacent roof. "Very well! I will continue to keep my distance!" his voice beeps into our comms.

"Same here, bud," Elliot says gruffly as he splits off into another building. "I didn't ask for bird poop _before_ we even drop. Sounds like the fucker wants some old fashioned extinction.~"

I sigh as my footsteps crunch from dirt, then creak against the wooden boards. "Just because it attacked you doesn't mean it hates you. You guys kept trying to touch it." I chuckle. "And it was _barely_ a stain on your shoulder, Mirage." I push open the first floor door into the rickoty building, spotting untouched ammo and armor. "Unlooted. Let's keep moving." We had killed four squads, and were already fully kitted; no need to worry about twenty rounds of ammo and level one armor.

Suddenly, I hear the raven's distant squacking caw. _It's been completely quiet until now; why reveal our position?_ I hide myself behind a wall to be safe-- then, bullet whizz past my shoulders, splintering the  window frames. My eyes widen as, in the other window across from me, I see a familiar smoke shroud the corner of Elliot's building.

"Bangalore is coming to you Elliot," I snap into comms, drawing out my Spitfire. "Stay out of open spaces! Path, someone's shooting at me-- see them?"

"Yes, but actually no," his robot voice says confusedly. "Inside--" I hear Wingman shots pierce through his comms and outside, on the roof.

"Path??" Nothing.

My hands crackle as I begin to rip open a portal. The swiftness of the Void courses through me as I run out of the building, making my way quickly across the river to reposition. I clutch my other fist, jumping into the Void entirely-- the world becomes a blur of jagged purples and grays, until finally, I let go of my control over the Void. I'm beneath another building for cover as I slip back into reality, my portal twisting behind me.

In front of me, an unexpected masked man stands, with green teeth painted like a grin across his wide, clothed jaws. He was positioned like he was expecting me, with his R99 to his hip, prepared to fire.

Instead, we both gasp.

I fall back into my portal. As soon as I stumble back into the building I was in before, I run up the stairs, planning to jump off the balcony. But in only a breath's time, I hear my portal release another passanger, and metallic steps bang behind me at a terrifying pace-- I turn around and begin firing off my Spitfire at the stairs to scare him off. "One on me," I shout into my comms.

Then, two Wingman shots-- his fucking precision grew an angry fire in me. My head erupts with unbearable pain, and despite myself, I can't find any shred of focus to stand. I scream as I fall down, and my Spitfire crashes into the floor beneath me.

I hear the metal steps skip closer. I slowly open my eyes as I try to stay alert. Blurry metal feet. The man skids as he quickly kneels beside me.

"I can't believe it... _¡Que padre!_ You're in the Games too?!" He yells excitedly as he leans over my side, his posture filled with childish energy and curiousity-- like a little boy finding a new type of bug, I imagined. His accented voice says gleefully, "See, I told you to do more adventurous things... and here you are! You took my advice!! _Muy bien, amiga_."

My eyes squint into his euphoric eyes. "I don't know you," I snarl.

"Oh, your words injure me!" he smiles broadly. "You're kidding, _si_? Not even a hello!! Women are _so_ selective about their memory." _Ugh_. This man was like Mirage-- always putting on a show. That's when I notice a camera on his chest... I stare at it. "How about _mis besos_?" the man's voice drops as his thumb strokes my immobilized lips. His breath seems heavier-- mine is frozen. "Do you remember what that means, my fierce bird? I expected a warmer greeting, lovely."

I realize his spirit isn't like a little boy at all. His hands slip off my chin, and down my neck like he's well-aquainted. My face flushes as fear clutches my heart. "Who are you?" I demand.

His hand raises off me. He unbuckles the back of his mask-- it slips down his face like a loose shirt. His olive skin curved a neat, angular face with a handsome smile, and vibrant green eyes. The man's soft black hair (with tipped electro green highlights) falls over his brow as his smooth lips press into a toothy smirk, before he licks his lips. I flush deeper as my eyes travel from his cut brow to his raised cheekbones, and then his tongue.

He had a round tongue piercing.

"Octavio Silva, the galaxy's finest Gauntlet athlete-- since we're doing introductions again," he grins. "I've been looking for you, my bird." His hands take my cheeks again. " _My bird_." His eyes water as he stares deeply into me. Even as helpless as I am, my heart unclenches for a moment. Octavio whispers, "You flew so far away for so long. You promised you'd never forget."

I stare blankly at him. I didn't need to say anything-- the man blinks tears out from his bright green eyes, and suddenly, his posture sinks as he hugs my shoulders. "No..." he chokes, his shoulders trembling as he holds back his own breath. "My beautiful dream. You don't remember me. You don't remember me at all."

I didn't know what to say-- yet, I'm crying too.

Suddenly, an R-301 melts through Octavio's armor, and pierces through him like a defenseless sandbag. He didn't even make a sound. The champion music blares through the Cascades as his body slips away from mine, unconcious. The pain in my head eases immediately, and my body laxes as I finally feel control return to me.

Elliot huffs with a frown, "Jeez. I had no shield cells left after the fiasco with Anita. That guy made my job easy." He blinks as he looks closer to me. "Wraith?"

I blink tears from my eyes, sitting up. "Yeah?"

He hurries to me, kneeling across from me. "Hey, what did he say to you??"

I don't know why-- tears begin to drip without restraint, and I hiccup as I sob into my hands, uncontrollably. Something about Octavio made me so sad, I could barely feel or think about anything else. Elliot watches for a moment before he does what he does best; he hugs me, in silence.

 


	28. [ her and octavio / blisk's arrangement ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lore speculation note - The following 2 chapters are inspired by the animated red carpet concept art of Mirage from one of the Apex cinematics. ✨

// **apex headquarters** , 3 hours later

I expected a moment to hide after our fourth round, at least for my eyes to stop swelling. The final round is tomorrow; I needed time to recover. So when we were picked up by a small ship after our round, as per usual, I thought we'd be dropped off in the same docking station as before.

That wasn't the case.

"I'm so stupid," I whisper in our squad's dressing room. My eyes are closed, and my brows tense. "I shouldn't have indulged him. Not with all the cameras watching. And now you're telling me I'm supposed to go to a press event?" My legs shift in thin cloth pants; it's challenging to stay still. I'm turned away from the giant metallic vanities and neon-lit mirrors behind me-- my jaw is lifted, facing up to Elliot, standing over me. I'm wearing a casual black tshirt and slacks. They're temporary clothes given to me while my combat uniform gets professionally cleaned. They just feel too thin to be comfortable.

"I don't envy you, Wraith... But the Apex Gala is central to the whole Games-- ya can't just c-compete, win your way into the top 20 squads, and _skip out_ on the red carpet. It's usually my fur-fe-favorite part," Elliot smirks as he taps a soft brush against my eyelids. He had offered to help me do my makeup to cover up my swollen redness, which I was relieved to accept. The brush raises off me, and I blink my eyes open.

Path's monitor turns into a reddened smile, sitting on a stool beside me. The robot pips up, "It's also the main part where you-- the contestant-- get to interact with fans who have been watching you! It's quite amazing to meet them."

"And it's at a beautiful villa on a mountain side.~ My only question is..." Elliot points his makeup brush across the room, at the elegant perched raven watching us on a clothes rack. "What the hell is _that_ still doing here??" The raven keeps staring at us, neary unflinching.

I chuckle. "I don't know. It's kind of cute." And it feels better having a reminder of Ástin's presence nearby; I didn't mind it.

Elliot shakes his head as he takes out a thicker brush, and pulls out a pale cream. "Okay, just remember one rule about the press," he warns. I nod, listening. "Don't answer questions that make you on-uh-uncomfortable. And _don't_ give them a reaction."

"That's two rules," I note softly, worry beginning to set in again.

He shrugs with a warm smirk. The brush dips into the cream dish before he holds my chin. He carefully slides the cool liquid under my eyes, slow and even. "People make fiction out of nothin'-- trust me. Give them less than nothin' if you don't want fiction being spread as the truth."

I smile, still disheartened. "I hate talking about myself, period. This sounds like an area you're really good at, and I'm terrible at." I exhale a small laugh, still trying to move as little as possible for Elliot's precise hand. "Why can't you just take a clone of me?"

He smiles widely as the back of his hand swipes away strands of hair from my face, then blends the cream with his left ring finger. "Clones ain't as adorable as the real thing. Your fans would _definitely_ be able to tell. I would." He winks. I blush with a frown. He fans my face for a moment, then takes out a huge fluffy brush, and dusts a translucent powder on my face. I nearly gag. Then, he sprays a damn perfume bottle all over my face, or whatever it was. I gag for real this time, having caught some of it chemical taste in my mouth. "Whoops! Shoulda warned you," he chuckles, "It's just makeup setter. Would suck if the makeup wore off in the middle of your big night, ya know?"

"No, I don't know," I stick my tongue out reflexively, grossed out.

With a smirk, he gestures behind me to the mirror. "Well, ver-- _uh_ \--voilah! How'd I do?"

Path and I both twirl around in our seat, and I look into the large, lit mirror behind us. My eyes widen at myself. I don't know how-- but Elliot flattered my best features without making it seem unnatural or gaudy. Even the raven flutters to another shelf to get a better look. The shadow above my eyes are slightly dramatized but subtly, while my cheekbones and lips looked so... _smooth_ , and a tint warmer than before. And, just as he promised, it didn't look like I've been crying at all. _I need to learn how to do this myself_. The raven's head tweaks sideways as it stares at me through the mirror. Pathfinder starts clapping happily, his monitor showing a gleeful grin. "Wow, good job friend! Wraith's natural beauty shines even brighter!!" he cheers.

"How did..." I start before blushing, flattered by Path's surprising compliment. It implied something I didn't expect: Pathfinder thought I was pretty. The tall tanned man opens his smug mouth to reply.

Suddenly, knocks at the door. We all pause. Path and I turn towards it as Elliot, already standing, saunters his way over.

All of his playful energy is suddenly sucked out of Elliot's stature. I see him behind the trickster's protective stance in the doorway: Octavio. He's dressed in his combat outfit too, but without the mask. "Let me talk to her, _por favor_ ," the olive man pleads.

Elliot's face tightens; but he steps aside, looking at me. "Ask her," he replies dryly before smirking. "I'm just the makeup artist."

 

// **rooftop of apex hq** , a few minutes later

Our dressing room was already on the sixth story; the roof was only another staircase up. I figured it'd be best to keep the boys in the dressing room, in case something came up. I led the metal-legged man upstairs, and a lingering, heavy silence followed.

From the shadowy hallway, I push the metal door open. A strong cool breeze hits me, and a gorgeous view of A32's evening mountainsides lays in the distance. It looks painted; like orange and blue paints melting off the horizon. I smile as Octavio steps out behind me.

" _Qué bella_ ," he says quietly. I glance at his wide-eyed expression, taken with the view too. I smirk; I didn't have to speak Spanish to understand. The awe in his eyes said everything.

"I didn't expect it either." My arms cross as my eyes fall. "Kind of like how I didn't expect anything that happened in the Ring earlier."

It was strange-- I thought Octavio was like Mirage, a man who couldn't stop showing off or pretending. But Octavio suddenly shows his vulnerability so vibrantly. The man's bright green eyes meet mine with a limp smile. I see a fragility in his youthful expression, the same I'd expect of a tired old man. "I'm just an idiot, _señorita_. I gave up looking for you years ago. I've been running into danger like a chicken with no head ever since. Had I paid any attention to the other contestants of the games, I would have seen your image long ago. I would have approached you far sooner!" He ruffles his highlights sheepishly. " _Perdóname--_ ah, forgive me. For my actions in the Ring, and for how easily I slip away from English." A quiet 'tsk' escapes his lip. "I'm a mess, _señorita_. _Qué lio_."

A faint smile pulls my lips. "I appreciate your honesty, so I'll give you mine." I exhale. "I woke up a few years ago in an IMC mental health facility with no memories. Unless you have something to tell me otherwise, I don't think your reaction was your fault." I lean back on a nearby pillar, my back pressed on the chilly concrete. Octavio stands in front of me, with a metal foot tapping as he folds his arms. He wears a gentler smile, his posture starting to lax. I smirk; I knew so little about him. Yet, I feel comfortable around him-- maybe even trusted him enough to learn more. "Let's start over, Octavio. What did you call me before? I still don't remember my old name."

He replies with warmth in his eyes, "Pilot Mason was what I was supposed to call you." I blink, my chest beating faster as it slips from his tongue. I remind myself I had no reason to believe him. "Your full name was Quinn Mason."

Goosebumps raise along my neck. I had no real reason to believe it-- but somehow, my instincts did. He raises his hands in a self-flattering shrug as he mischeviously adds, "And you were sooo _madly_ in love with me. _Dios mio_ , everyone knew." I roll my eyes as he laughs, "I couldn't get you to shut up about us, even!"

My face heats as I reply, half-amused, "I might believe you about the name. The story? Not so much."

The speedster grins. "You lost your memory, my bird, yet you still stay the same." His grin loses some of its strength. "That isn't fair at all."

I smile weakly. I wish I knew what to say to that. "How did we meet?"

Octavio's face becomes slightly pinkish as he laughs nervously. "We agreed to tell people we met in the Gauntlet training area. Which isn't a total lie!" He looks at me sheepishly, "But I met you in the women's locker room nearby. I needed to use the bathroom so badly, I didn't check the sign. _Importante_ detail: I'm not clumsy, just very stupid," he winks. "Turned the wrong corner and I saw your bare ass-- you mistook me for a dangerous pervert and broke my wrist like a _pequeñito_ twig." My brows furrow deeply as my leg crosses, still leaning on the wall. He laughs brightly, " _It's true_ , it's true! This is before I had access to the high tech medicines now. My left wrist still can't turn all the way down!"

I couldn't help but to snicker at that. "What the hell?" I grunt with a faint smile, "How'd I trust you after that?"

He smirks. "You practiced in the Gauntlet relentlessly, _señorita,_ same as me. It's meant for Pilots, but I was one of the first to make it into a sport. Me and you kept seeing each other; I kept flirting because you seemed to like my company. Eventually, anyway." The buttery evening sun dips closer to the horizon as he whistles, "We competed with each other often. You whipped me in shape pretty good.~ I broke the world record awhile after you disappeared. Too bad you missed that, it was quite the show." I look at him thoughtfully.

"What was our relationship really like?" I ask cautiously. "At what point did I disappear?"

Octavio smiles. "I loved you, Quinn." The boyish man reddens, "Or, er, Wraith." I shrug with a rising heat in my face, showing indifference for the name. He sighs, "I-I don't know what _you_ truly felt-- but we became close. You were afraid of adventure beyond battle, and... I was afraid of finding a reason to live. I thought it's impossible to do dangerous things without being suicidal, so I didn't try to change. Every day was dark before you, Quinn." His whispers soften. Shadows fall over his face as his jawline falls. "I never got to say that to you back then, even though we dated for a whole year. You left often for Militia missions, and one spring seven years ago, you never came back." Despite only meeting Octane for the first time today, I already feel I'm seeing a side of him nobody else knew about. I've heard enough about the energetic 'Octane' to know that he wasn't trying to lie or impress me. The man in front of me was weak for me; he had no defense if I were to shove his pain back in his face. But I'm not ruthless.

"I'm sure she would've appreciated it-- whoever Quinn was," I reply gently, almost ashamed of being incapable of comforting the man. "I'm just glad you're sharing all of this with a new stranger."

His face lights up for a moment. "I do like to make new _amigos_ , if you'll have me," he says slyly.

I smile faintly. "Only if you don't expect the same treatment Quinn gave you."

"Of course not," he chuckles awkwardly. "Of course not... unless you need a kiss to wake up from a magic slumber?" he winks.

I roll my eyes, reluctantly amused by his childish humor. "Nope. Just let me die."

 

// **outside the apex headquarters** , 1 hr later

Our rooftop conversation didn't last much longer; the Apex Gala was approaching. I thought I've had my fill of investigating my background, finally having learned my name-- maybe I could enjoy this gala in peace.

I watched Elliot and Pathfinder step into their own transports for the Gala. For some reason, squads didn't arrive all at once-- each of the contestants had our own sports car which brought us to the Apex Gala. These were top-of-the-line Kodai Xeno-N models; admittedly, I've never seen a car that looked so smooth and effortlessly beautiful. Elliot says they're not even in the market yet. I told him I think that the Apex Gala is just using its most popular competitors to sell products for its sponsors. He just smirked; I don't think he disagrees.

"Wraith," a uniformed Apex staff calls out, opening up the backseat of a dark purple model for me to step into. I glance at the raven, who stares at me from a nearby tree branch. _I guess it's not following me inside._ I step into my seat. A cool breeze relaxes me as the thighs of my freshly cleaned combat suit squeak against the interior dark leather. I sigh as the door shuts behind me, placing myself where I could see the driver seat. I look at the driver.

My breath stops.

"Funny, ain't it?" The crisp accent states, though the voice seems weathered with age. The white-haired Kuben Blisk glances back at me, dressed in a sharp black suit. His smirk glints with something dark. "Really thought I wouldn't run into you again, 'Wraith'. But you might _really_ pull this off-- winnin', I mean." The car starts rolling forward, and then jolts with dangerous, gear-snapping speed. I hadn't put on my seatbelt yet; I grit my teeth as I crash into the seat ahead of me and my back is thrown sideways against the leather behind me. I rub my aching cheek as I glare at him defiantly. Blisk burst in a laugh. "I gotta hand it to Kodai-- they find a way to make these things more stupidly reckless every year."

"So this was your plan? Kidnap me in a sports car?" I hiss as I sit back in my seat.

"Oh no, sweetheart," he replies simply without looking at me. "You're getting to the Gala. _But_ ," I see a hint of his toothy grin from the rear-view mirror, "let me ask ye a question. How much do you remember these days?" My impulse is to attack the smug man-- but the car is still going at a stomach-sinking speed, splitting off into smaller, less popular roads. I need to consider my actions and words carefully.

"How do you know I lost any of them?" I growl my bluff, my voice becoming more acidic.

"Kid, Pilots don't compete in the Apex Games," he shrugs. "They are, undoubtably, the strongest in the universe. The Apex Games proves your credibility and strength; Pilots don't need to prove it anymore than doin' what they usually do. But now, you don't remember your training. Hell, you don't even got a Titan. It asks an interesting question; are ye still a Pilot?" His clear blue eyes look through the slit mirror at me coyly, as if he already knew the answer. "Or just a scared little girl?"

"What are you trying to accomplish, Blisk?" I snarl, feeling anger crawl deep up my spine.

He ignores the question. "Want to know something interesting?" Blisk smiles deceitfully. "When you transfer a Pilot's conciousness into a containment unit and then return it back in the body, they suffer memory loss." My heart pounds in my chest. "But they can relearn all of their training at exceptional speeds. They call it the 'process of regenerating,' developed by Hammond Industries." He continues with a nodding frown, "It's a common practice, _usually_ worth the trouble. Let's see... Oh, here's an example: Sarah Briggs, your cranky Militia leader, is a sixth generation Pilot. She's done the process six times."  (A/N: This paragraph's Blisk dialogue is canon Respawn lore!) The civilized buildings disappear behind us quicker than expected; the car starts pulling up a mountain-side road.

I stare. "You're saying that's how my memory was wiped?"

"No, kid," Blisk states dryly. The car swerves quickly on a sloping upwards turn, and I grunt as I swing sideways with it, grabbing onto the window's hand clutch to hold myself down. "I'm just sharing an interesting Pilot fact. Consider it a reward for making it this far in the Games." He smirks. "But if yer askin', I do know everything that facility did to you. After all, I'm the one that brought you there." Before I could say anything, he raises his finger towards me. " _That_ information comes at a price."

I angrily shove his hand out of my face. My arm moves through him-- the holograph stutters but returns quick enough to show Blisk's grin, amused with me. "Ohh... I bet you've never heard of a remote-controlled car before, huh? Not a lot around. Had to get 'em custom made. I mean, who'd want a driver that ain't riskin' his own life, ay?" He grins darkly. "Anyway, there's no amount of money somebody could pay me to sit in this death trap." A pause as he adds, "Well, maybe. Money can make a man do a lot of dangerous things."

 _Of fucking course_. I hated this man with all my being; nothing would make me happier than pressing my knife through his spleen right now, savoring every ridge. But he controlled this 'death trap'; while I doubted he'd kill a valuable contestant, I wasn't taking chances. "All I care about is finding out more on who I was and what they did to me. What's the price?" I cross my arms, dissatisfied. The car is climbing higher into the mountain; from my periphial vision, I can see the shrinking Apex Headquarters through the windows, and the market district.

"Become Champion. Then, fight in another season of the Games," Blisk's white-haired holograph instructs, still imitating the action of driving, "and win _again_." Resentment grew in my chest. "A real Pilot shouldn't have any reason to struggle-- and only the strongest deserve to survive in the Frontier."

"I don't see how you're benefiting from this," I say cautiously.

He muses, "Let's just say I need bait. That's why I took care of that little Caustic problem for ye; haven't seen him around, have ya? Can't have my bait die _early_."

"You killed him?"

He chuckles, "Oh, no. I have a few business contacts that would benefit from Caustic's services. I struck a deal with him."

 _I doubt that Caustic cares for business deals more than his philosophical delusions... like his need to kill or be killed by me_. "Why would you even need bait? Why me?" My mind races. Chills spread through my body again. "Wait-- the girl. There's a girl you're looking for." I start putting the facts together from my last memory. My throat feels dry as I accuse lowly, "You never caught her, did you? You must think she's looking for me."

His brows raise as he lets out a laugh, "Hah! You remembered more than you let on, kid. Well played." His lips press into a frown. "I ain't tellin' you anything else. Win and know everything you wanna know, or lose and I'll rip you apart with my Titan before someone else in the Outlands does it to ye first. Final offer."


	29. [ apex gala / wraith x legends collection I ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N- This chapter is a bit special. All of the major players attend the Apex Gala win or loss, so we'll be doing little segments for Wraith's interactions with every legend during the Gala-- just for us to establish her relationship dynamics with everyone before our finale :)

// **the red carpet** , kuben blisk's villa

I didn't have much of a choice. Though I agreed to his terms, I pressed for more details and answers. The old man ignored me for the rest of the car ride.

The roads begins to clutter with traffic as we draw closer to the villa; luckily, a lane is dedicated to the arriving contestants. Blisk enters it, and as we curve along the mountainside, I see the white villa reveal itself.

Its bright lights are piercing through the late evening shadows-- it glows like a star against the shadowy bush of the mountains, with specks of flashing camera lights along the driveway. Everything inside the house looked grand, with wide and clear windows, almost _too_ exposed with luxury and wealth. The colony was filled with depravity and struggling people to live day to day; seeing the most beautiful home I've ever seen belong to such a bastard made me suddenly sick.

The car pulls in quickly behind other Kodai models, then pausing in the short line. Blisk looks back at me. "It's your first time on the red carpet, kid, but ye can't fuck it up. Just keep walkin' on that strip til ya hit a big spread of open carpet. The first few meters are for pictures. The open area is for meetin' the press. Yer friend Mirage probably stuck around there, like the camera whores kids are these days," he grunts.

I'm not touched by the advice. I narrow my eyes as the car inches forward. "Why host a gala? What's the point?"

Blisk laughs, "You think the Apex Games is how everyone makes their money? Yer naive." His jaw tilts towards the left, and I look to see a small area of expensive looking, parked cars. "We got some of the wealthiest people of the Outlands here, or people that represent 'em; they need dangerous people to do dangerous work. In my day, the Apex Predators did that. But the IMC wars gave us a real bad rep-- so how do I still make money?" He grins. "Just make other people do it for me. Make 'em _rely_ on me and my Games to even find these kinds of people without bein' shamed for doin' it-- contestants and rich people alike. Glamorize it, even! Make it a show."

"That doesn't completely explain all these Kodai cars and the press," I frown.

The car pulls up to a brightly lit strip of carpet, and I hear the loud murmur of people and flashing cameras outside. My stomach turns as I think of all the attention I'll get-- I realize how poorly this will go for me. But before anything else, Blisk says, for the first time, something I actually expected: "Doesn't it? Helps with the sponsorships."

The door springs open as I'm revealed to the cameras-- the lights blind me immediately as I flinch back. I barely realize there's even music from the chaos of stimuli in my mind. _You're seen_ , the voices warn chaotically all at once. _Hide, don't let them see you, run!_ My vision shifts in and out of reality as I force myself out of my seat, struggling to fight the mass of voices in my mind, and the natural sense of danger I felt from crowds of people I didn't trust. "Wraith, Wraith!!" People cry in the crowd, snapping their fingers or waving their hands while holding a camera in the other. "Over here!" _I have no idea which of them said that._ My eyes are squinting as I stand up, still as I try to adjust to the light, and I walk down the strip of carpet. I'm not responding, but questions still come from several people at once. "Can you pose for the shot?" "Who made your combat suit?"

I pause at the unusual question. "Made my suit? No idea. I found it," I frown. _Wait, why did they even want to know?_ The buzzing camera people continue to shout my name as they try to all simultaneously grasp my attention. I become frusterated as I feel the voices still shift constantly in my mind, and quicken my pace down the carpet, ignoring them.

I reach the open carpet and-- while I do spot other recognizable contestants, I finally see Elliot and Pathfinder, talking with an attractive woman in a dark pantsuit next to a camera. I smirk as I try to walk around them, not exactly eager to join an interview, but Elliot gestures brightly to me.

"There she is!" he grins with a loud cry. "Man, Wraith, you took longer than we thought." Pathfinder waves excitedly.

I force a smile as I approach them, glancing uncomfortably towards the camera. "The driver probably took a wrong turn." _So he could intimidate me longer... Asshole._

The woman with starry green eyes and tight short blond hair grins widely as she pulls a microphone to her mouth, "Wow, so happy to have you join us Wraith!!" I smile a bit back at her-- her ethusiasm was cute. "How would you describe your first season in the Apex Games?! Your squad is undefeated!" She moves the microphone towards my mouth. I reflexively frown, not used to having things shoved towards my face. But I cough, reminding myself this is normal.

"My first real season... feels pretty good," I reply, beginning to slip into my analytical side. "I think the weapons are well-selected for the challenge presented." I cringe inside as I remember I'm complimenting Blisk. "There just isn't any other experience like it," I relent anyway. "I'd like to keep competing. Honestly, initally I thought playing in a squad might hinder me. I'm a very disciplined player. But I enjoy fighting with my squad, and the teamwork it requires." Pathfinder and Elliot seem to share a smile at this, which makes me chuckle.

"Awesome to hear, Wraith," the woman cheers, "Speaking of teamwork!" I spot Elliot's expression tense slightly. "Our viewers are SO curious: are you and Elliot dating?!"

She barely moves the microphone fast enough for my response: "No," I say simply. "He's a very good friend of mine and we wouldn't be here without him. Same for Pathfinder."

Elliot chuckles as he adds toward the mic, "Yep! Ya heard it here first, folks-- We're just a hecking good crew. _And_ I'm single to boot." He winks at the camera. I laugh quietly at the trickster.

The woman presses a smile as she asks, "Oh my; I guess that's pretty good! Wraith, in the latest match, Octavio Silva confessed his feelings for you and you denied him. Is there someone else in your life? Bloodhound, perhaps?"

My eyes widen as Elliot coughs, "That's not exactly what happened."

She smiles wider, "Please clarify for the fans then, Mr. Witt! It gets even more interesting: fans have investigated all of the footage from last match, and saw a raven follow Wraith the entire time. Isn't that odd for Bloodhound's symbolic pet to be keeping watch over her?" Elliot gives me a sympathetic look. I try to remember: _don't answer. Don't give them a reaction._

"There's nothing to look into," I reply simply, heavily conscious of the cameraman keeping a large lens on me. "Ravens live on this planet; Bloodhound didn't invent them."

Suddenly, a handsome black-haired man in a suit and a camerawoman jogs towards me. "Wraith! Big fan here! Amazing performances this season, you are already a damn legend in your first season, in my opinion." He grins widely at me.

"Uh, wow. Thanks," I smile, adjusting to the compliment. I glance over at the other blonde woman, but she's already talking to her own camera, something about a commercial break. _Wait-- I'm supposed to switch who I'm talking to, just like that?_ My head is starting to spin.

"Any comment on the latest match? What history do you have with Octavio?" the man asks earnestly.

I sigh as the man's microphone is pushed towards me. "I hate repeating myself so I'll say this once," I say dryly, "I don't remember my history with Octavio. My memory was wiped years ago. And--" A hard-toed shoe taps my ankle. I look up beside me and see Elliot's wide-eyes, silently begging me to shut up. My lips move slowly as I repeat, "And that's it."

The interviewer's eyes are wide with excitement, "Oh no! There must be more you can share for our fans over at LegendsWatch?"

I smile weakly. "That's it, sorry."

"That's alright, Wraith! Mind if I ask you questions from the viewers?" the man asks with a calm smile.

I exhale. "Sure."

"Alright! This is a question from..." he laughs, "BloodhoundIsMyDaddyXD! Wow, our fans are filled to the _brim_ with creativity." Elliot bursts in a laugh as Pathfinder and I look at each other, confused. _That's not a real name, though?_ I didn't get it. "Anyway," the interviewer grins, "their question is this: 'How do you attract all of the hottest contestants in the Apex Games? I relate to your cold exterior and really could use some flirting tips.'"

"Uhh..." I blink, cluelessly staring into the camera, and then back at him. "First of all, I didn't even know I have a cold exterior." I look up at Pathfinder and Elliot. "Was it really that bad when I met you guys?"

Pathfinder beeps cheerily, "So long as you wanted to kill in the Ring, I was quite content upon our meeting!"

Elliot laughs slightly strained as he adds with a smirk, "Ohh nah! That fan has it all wrong. Wraith's not cold; she's just serious. Big difference. She keeps this squad on its toes.~"

I nod slowly, looking back at the host. "For dating advice, she's asking the wrong person. I have no idea what she's talking about either; I'm not trying to collect or attract people in any way. I'm here to win the Apex Games." The boys nod in agreement. I smile a bit, starting to get a handle on this.

 

// 30 minutes later

_I can't do this anymore, I hate it._

We've gone through 15-20 different hosts and pairs from shows already. The same questions came over, and over again. I had to dodge the same questions in different ways; if Elliot wasn't there, I don't know what I would've done. I was exhausted.

"Guys, I have to get out of here before I go insane," I murmur as another interviewer walks away.

Elliot smirks. "You did good, Wraith; go ahead, follow the carpet! The press can't go inside the villa, but you can. I'll catch up with you guys."

I frown. "Do I have to go in there without you?" He was the Gala expert.

His smile brightens. "The Ring can't kill ya, so the Gala won't be able to figure it out either."

I sigh and nod with a smirk. "Path?"

Pathfinder says gleefully, "I will stay longer!! I love meeting new friends, they're so happy!"

My jaw drops. Path is actually having fun too? _Why am I the anomaly in this squad?_ I raise my hands in defeat as I see another cameraman spot us. "Alright guys. I'm out of here then." I walk off, hiding a slight smile; those two couldn't stand each other when I met them. Now they're just hanging out on the red carpet like best friends? It made me smile with a strange sense of pride.

 

>> **chronological scenes during the gala** , wraith x legends (w exception of gibraltar)

 

1\. bloodhound

// **villa entrance lobby**

Security opens the front doors for me; the red carpet ends. I inhale softly at the brilliant decor. The white villa lacked no expense paid. Gold accents lined base of the centerpiece fountain, surrounded by a majestic marble floor. The water itself was the clearest I've ever seen; this wasn't just filtered tank water. Maybe it was also the crystal tiles that lined the bottom of the pool. But as soon as I enter, I don't stare at the fountain for long; I see the masked and suited hunter in the corner of the room with his favored raven on his arm.

I walk towards them as they turn to me. "Wraith," they nod slowly. I sense apprehension in their tone.

I smirk. "Hey. What's wrong?"

They return their gaze to the raven. "I've been waiting to apologize to you," states the musked voice. "The press has made me realize my raven has given you more trouble than it was worth."

I shake my head. "It's fine, Ástin. It was worth the comfort."

Their mask is still for a moment. "As much as I resent him, Elliot did a good job with your makeup." I blink widely. "How did your conversation with the metal-leggedth man go?"

"Wait-- how do you know about that?"

Bloodhound looks between me and his bird. "... Did I never tell you? Arthur is not a vreal bird. It is a highly advanced AI model created by myself. I have technology that allows me to see through its eyes and control it." They shrug. "Admittedly, that portion is not easily portable. I cannot fully control Arthur in the Ring; thusly, why it requires AI."

"...But," I gawk, "Arthur dropped poop on Pathfinder and Elliot."

"Heh," the hunter says, as if pleased with themself, "Makes it more convincing, hm?"

I redden and whisper angrily, "And I changed my clothes in that dressing room!"

The hunter is silent as their mask looks down at their feet. "I, ah... quickly redirected Arthur during those portions of the camera feed. I swear--"

With crossed arms, I snap back, "Oh yeah? I'm supposed to take your word that you respect my privacy?"

Bloodhound quietly protests, "Yes. I have honor. Wraith, I was worried for you-- we did not capture Alexander, and he disappeared so quickly. I was afraid something may go wrong." A pause. "Arthur did not follow you when you wished to converse with Octavio alone."

I sigh. "Damnit, Ástin. I understand, but you can't do that without telling me first." Silence between us. I start to chuckle.

"What?" Bloodhound asks worriedly.

I smirk teasingly. "You're kind of creepy."

"What??" they say, startled.

"You show up in a dark hallway when we met," I recount. "You climbed up to my room several times. You always know more than me about... well, everything. You're always hiding something." I shrug. "And now, you're spying on me."

Bloodhound's posture slumps slightly. "I..." Their face turns away as they seem to deeply consider it. " _Allfather_. That's all I knew to do to help you."

"You're used to hunting. I get it," I sigh. "But I'm not prey, Bloodhound. I'm your friend."

They nod slowly; I imagine a smile beneath their mask. It sends a warm comfort in my chest. "I apologize, Wraith." They pause. "I'll learn to do vbetter."

"Good." I smile. I found their worry cute. "And the conversation with Octavio went well. I'm learning more about who I was. And..." I exhale as I think of Blisk. "I'm glad, but now things are even more complicated." I look up at them. "But I can't tell you about that here."

The helmeted hunter nods, their beads clinking together softly. "I am in the final round with you-- so perhaps after. I am as patient as evergreen trees for you, _astvinur_."

 

2\. lifeline

// **indoor art viewing room**

Eventually, I wandered into the art room beside the entrance. I notice a familiar dark and pink-bunned woman staring closely at a porcelain vase. "Ajay, wasn't it?" I say, unsure; I hadn't seen her since my first trip to the Scavenger.

She perks up and looks at me. Her wide eyes were lit with a wild energy that I didn't fully understand. She grins. "Oh hey! Gratz on ya last win, Wraith." I open my mouth to thank her, but she cuts as she excitedly skips to me, "Hard to believe you'd be di girl Octavio has been talkin' 'bout all d'ese years."

I mutter, surprised, "Wait, you're friends with him?"

Ajay hops in front of me, then shrugs with a charming smile. "If ya call the woman that gave him di legs he's famous for a 'friend', d'en yes. One of his closest."

"You're everyone's friend, it seems like," I note.

She giggles. "Ya not wrong, woman. We can be friends tonight, but don't be thinkin' I won't whoop ya in the Ring tomorrow.~"

I smirk challengingly. "What if I get to you first?" I put a hand on my hip as my weight shifts casually. "I don't let down easy, even if my competitor has ridiculously cute hair buns. You're still going to be my friend after that?"

She blinks and laughs, her face tinting with flattery. "We'll see, yuh freaky ghost," she smiles. "Don't get too confident. I'll be watchin' my back this time."

 

3\. caustic

// **outdoor kitchen**

It's already darkening into night. I passed a dining room before reaching an unusual kitchen; the top had an open-air roof, and columns and arches surrounded the rest of the area. The appliances were set in stone and granite, but beautifully lit with lanterns. I blink as I look closer. It was an outdoor kitchen.

"Test subject," a deep voice growls behind me. I turn around quickly, brows furrowed. Alexander appears from seemingly nowhere, sitting at the island bar in the center of the space. He looked strange; most legends kept their entire combat suit for the Gala. But Alexander wore a button suit instead of his lab outfit, and kept his gas mask with the according back equipment attached to it. "Pleased to see you crawling around still." His sunken, tired eyes stay on me.

I stare blankly-- I spent days looking for him, and yet, I didn't even know what to say now he was there. I shake my head, about to walk off, since I had no interest discussing my past in such a public event.

"I am not going to attack you again," he states before I take more than a step. I glare at him.

"Blisk told me," I reply lowly, icly. "But what about my teammates? Is that the loophole you wanted?"

"Not them, either," Alexander says, his gloved fingers crossing as they clutch togrther in front of his gas mask. His eyes narrow. "What have you done, Wraith?" I shift my feet towards him, uncomfortable but clueless to his meaning. His growl continues, "Why is Blisk interested in you?"

"How am I supposed to know? Because it's nothing _recent_. You already know I lost my memories." I frown. "Why do you care?"

Alexander seems to smile from within his mask, cheeks lifting. "Perhaps your agony fascinates me. I've only ever been taught to inflict pain. You were the first test subject I attempted to release pain from."

I stare harshly, distrusting. "You were my caretaker-- I was told you took a lot of time in my cell. You expect me to believe you helped me?"

"I know exactly what I am," the gruff man says dryly. "I am a man who knows only how to appreciate death. But there are rare days when I wonder if there is more-- and there have been even fewer moments when I considered that fighting to survive against all odds could be worth it. One of those moments I already told you about: in a torture chamber, when I saw you hide your pain with intense determination. You always believed you'd live through that place." My eyes ease slightly, still holding my distrust close to me. Alexander nods, "I helped you become stronger over a period of weeks-- proper food, exercise, and training. If I gave you a chance to escape, I wanted you to survive." He huffs proudly, "And you did."

"Why attack me in the training area then?" I ask, irritated. "Why try to kill my squadmates?"

He coughs, and wheezes slightly before he collects his voice again: "I knew they would live while on Apex grounds-- I only wanted to provoke you. I wanted you to kill me before the medical team could do anything to save me."

"Why??" I demand again.

"Because I deserve it."

I stare surprised at the man-- his expression is still, and completely serious. My face twists as I'm disgusted by even the smallest rising of pity for him. I hated him. I'm supposed to hate him always. I exhale as I start my pace away from him, and quickly leave the room.

 

4\. bangalore

// **indoor bar/entertainment area**

Sometime later, I found an entertainment center with an extremely large TV (half the size of the wall) with white lavish sofa seating surrounding it, along with a nearby sleek indoor bar. The room was fairly crowded-- some people were chatting, and others were watching the season highlights on the TV. I supposed I didn't feel like drinking, but then I saw Anita in her armored suit, sitting on a bar stool and talking up the bartender. Her confident expression and tone gleams through all other chatter in the room.

"Hey," I say as I approach behind her. She looks over and grins at me.

" _Hey_ ," Anita says smoothly as she raises an arm, as if wanting a hug. "C'mere."

I smile slightly. "The last time I saw you, you attacked Elliot; maybe even wanted to kill him." Her joyful look shrinks into guilt. I shrug. "I... don't think I want a hug right now."

"Look," she sighs. "It ain't simple. Elliot and I have history."

I raise a brow before taking a stool seat beside her; the bartender silently offers me a water, which I gladly take. "I didn't think you'd ever date Elliot," I say before sipping my glass.

Anita rolls her eyes, "Oh _hell_ no. He dated my ex-girlfriend; the first girl I fell in love with when I got here." I take a hard gulp of water. _Didn't expect that_. She sighs. "Me and her were going great. Then, I had a match against Mirage's squad in a few days. I noticed my girl was getting distant. Didn't know why." She sips her amber liquid in a clear, triangular glass. "Right before my round against Elliot's squad, she sends me a picture of her and Elliot sleeping together."

My heart drops as she continues, "I landed in King's Canyon in pieces-- my squad lost so quickly, it's almost a record. I never even talked to the guy outside of the Ring; he just felt like tearing my life apart so he could win easier."

"I had no idea, Anita," I say sadly. "He... he isn't that kind of person anymore."

"Oh yeah?" she says sharply. "He hasn't proved it to anyone but _you_. Why should I believe it means anything?"

Heat rises as I snap back, "You don't talk to Elliot-- not back then, not now. You don't know how much he's changed. I _don't_ trust people, Anita, period. Elliot was one of the first to make me think I could."

Her elbows tighten closer to her body as she sighs. "So what?" She swirls her glass without looking at me. "I trusted you, Wraith. But you only care about Elliot, huh? Is that all you wanted to talk about with me?" Anita's hardened eyes become glassy. "Tired of this same ol' shit."

"Everyone thinks I'm dating Elliot," I sigh as I rub my nose bridge. "That's not the case. Hell if I know what dating even _is_. And even if it were the case, that doesn't mean you can be a jerk to me." Anita raises a brow at me. I frown, "You're important to me Anita. I've always trusted your advice; we've always been similar. That has nothing to do with Elliot, who I _had_ to protect as my squadmate, if I can remind you of that."

Anita stares at me for a long while, and I stare back. Then, she gives a small puffed exhale. "Mm, you're right. Damnit, you're right." She shakes her head as she takes a swing of her drink. I chuckle as the cup slams back on the counter. Anita smirks at me. "You _did_ threaten to kill my squad afterwards. Do you just say that shit when you're pissed off?"

I shrug. "Depends how far you were going to escalate it. I _was_ pretty pissed off."

She laughs as she crosses her arms, her slightly redden face suggesting her tipsiness. "You're cute, and fuckin' dangerous. I love that." I blush. Anita smirks at me fondly. "Since you ain't Elliot's girlfriend, does that mean you'd want to go on a date with me?"

My lips press as my face runs a deeper red. "S... sure, but," I breathe, "I'm still... new to dates. I had my first date like, a week or two ago maybe." I look nervously into my water. "I'm just saying that because you seem confident all the time. I'm not always the same; don't expect too much."

"Wraith," she whispers with surprising care. I blush again. Her eyes are warm and sultry. "You're a goddamn badass. I'd be lucky to take you out, mkay? You think my confidence isn't tested around you?" I smile a bit, appreciatively. She scoffs before saying with curiousity. "Who took you on your first date?"

"Oh..." I give her a pressed frown. She realizes the answer as she sighs harshly, finishing off her drink.

The cup slams on the counter, but too hard-- it slips off her fingers and drops off the counter, shattering. The bartender hurriedly tries to clean it up as Anita complains, "Maaaan. I'm going to kill Elliot someday."

 

5\. octavio

// **the outdoor pool**

I finally explored the backyard, and notice how amazing the dark starry sky was from here. I take a seat on a pool chair just to admire it for awhile longer.

"Lookin' for something, _amiga?_ " a familiar accent calls. I smirk as Octavio practically jumps in the chair next to me, like an excited kid. He leans on the back legs of his chair as he stares directly up, open-mouthed. "Huh. The sky looks so boring today."

"...What?" I say with confusion.

The olive tinted man winks smoothly under his mess of black highlighted hair. "Cuz I got the brightest star right next to me.~"

I roll my eyes but a chuckle escapes my lips anyway. "That was stupid," I try to say more seriously. I break out a laugh again as I shake my head. Octavio smirks proudly.

"See what a good boyfriend I used to be? I make you laugh, even as Wraith."

I exhale, smiling faintly. "I told you; don't treat me like Quinn." The smile dies. "You'll be disappointed."

He blinks. " _¿Comó?_ How?" He shakes his head. "You have the spirit of a soaring bird, _amiga_. That has never changed."

My eyes wander the beautiful lit pool-- it looked like it was glowing. "I just... I'm not ready to belong to anyone. I'm just barely understanding dating at all. If your only goal with me is to date me, you might be disappointed by what you find."

"To be fair," he says weakly, "you didn't have, ah... Void powers before. _Yo no sé_ what you've been through. But you're mistaken if you think I feel greedy, _chica_." I meet his bright green eyes and notice a tenderness in them. "I was your best friend, and you were mine," Octavio says quietly. "That hasn't changed for me just because you dove into hell and came back. I'm just overjoyed you're alive, and I can even support you... I've spent years wishing I could make you laugh again." The punkish man smiles modestly. "I'm happy to be a bystander in your life; this is enough, if nothing else."

I was touched deeply by that; I smile. "I wish I remembered more about you. I only have one."

He blinks, surprised. "Ehh? You didn't tell me you _did_ have a memory of me."

I suddenly flush pink. "It's... I don't remember your face. I remember a song playing, and you were kissing me against a wall. I said something about 'it being busy' and we'd be caught. I'm nearly certain it was you because of things you said, and..." My eyes lower shyly. "I felt your tongue piercing."

The boyish man cooes mischievously. "Ooh, Wraith.~ Quinn never told me about her naughty dreams about me." I give him a fierce red look as he laughs, "I kid, I kid!!" He sniffles with a grin, "That sounds like one of our moments in the locker room when we were dating, _amiga_. I guess the dangerous pervert grew on you."

I roll my eyes again before teasing, "Maybe Quinn was less smart than I am."

He protests with another laugh, "You injure me!" He winks. "I headshot you twice, amiga. You're definitely just as stupid." I dip my boot into the pool and kick some of the water at him, to which him and his chair falls backwards to avoid-- his metal legs stumbles over it as a loose thread gets caught in them, dragging the whole chair with his attempts to get up. I wanted to hold in my laughter this time. But I can't; I throw my head back as I crackle in a loud, stomach-shaking laugh.

Octavio was a very, very strange man.

 

6\. elliot

// **living room**

I hadn't seen the trickster after being in the Gala for a couple hours now. I start looking for him.

I walk into one of the nearly empty casual seating areas-- it's dark, but I could tell the sofas were a warm maroon red. It looks pleasant against white walls. It's funny how it reminds me of Elliot's apartment, and there he was: sitting on the same sofa, seeming to sink in thought as he finishes off a drink. His eyes widen as he notices me midway into his swing.

"What are you doing?" I raise a brow, slightly concerned. "Sitting around alone isn't like you during a _party_."

He takes a second to swallow his drink before he chuckles awkwardly. "I'm j-just takin' a break." The scarred man smiles sheepishly. "I'm allowed to get tired, yeah?"

I nod before taking a seat beside him. "I just thought you enjoyed these kinds of things... differently than I did."

He shrugs as he leans forward and places his empty glass on a sleek dark coffee table. "Maybe there's a lot more to me then you'd think, missy," he smirks slightly. Elliot seemed more serious than I've seen him before; somehow, more grounded and real than the magician pretended to be.

"Like what?"

Elliot rests his chocolate eyes on me for a moment. He sighs, "It's nothing."

"Tell me," I insist.

He sighs louder. "Wraith..." He looks down at his hands. "I've always found a way to justify doing shitty things; I just can't do that anymore. People talk to me, expecting me to be irresponsible, but I'm changing-- in ways I didn't think were possible for me anymore. And if you weren't in my life, I don't know how that would have happened." He suddenly raises his gaze to me again, this time more heavy and lusting than the last. My face reddens deeply. "It's difficult to hold in this feeling for you on my own."

"... You know," I pip up, "I've spent this entire Gala explaining to people that we're not dating, right?"

Elliot brings his large warm hand over mine. My heart beats faster in my chest; the room is barely lit with anything aside the stretches of light from the windows. "Yeah," he smirks. "I know." His torso leans over as another one of his hands raises my chin to him; he strokes my jaw with his thumb. I feel his hot breath on me, and it brings me back to everytime he's ever touched me-- except this time, I wasn't terrified or too tired to care. My arms raise over his broad shoulders, just like the time we danced together. I find myself smiling at him; I knew anyone could walk in here, yet, I can't truly fear it when Elliot looks at me like this.

Maybe everyone had been right. This wasn't just friendship, was it? Strange how I only started knowing better when I was beside him like this.

Mirage says quietly, with a smile, "I-If I kiss you, it doesn't mean we're dating."

My face reddens again. "I... guess not," I relent.

His body inches closer as his arms spread to my back, tightly embracing me-- his arms and grasp feels powerful, sending chills over my stomach and thighs. I could barely breathe from the pressure in my chest. He whispers in my ear, "Maybe I just want to show my thanks."

I bend my face shyly away from his, laying on his shoulder. My chest tightens. "Elliot, I don't know..." He keeps a secure, comforting hug on me.

"It's up to you-- a-always will be up to you."

I push him away gently to see his expression-- to see if he meant it. I stare into his sincere melting gaze. I never realized how smooth his lips looked, even this close. Most importantly, I trust him. I really do trust him.

I sit up slightly as I pull myself in.

Elliot squeezes me as he takes me; I feel his flood of relief, his graciousness, his desire all at once. His lips overtake mine like a storm. Even the slightest graze of his dark beard electrifies my senses. It shocks me as I try to move with him; but he does all the work for me. My mind sinks into a haze, becoming lost in the spell of Elliot's warm musk. But the longer we kiss, my grip around his shoulder tightens in anxiety as I feel so much at once-- _too_ much. More than I could ever handle or deserve. I push him away again, and he follows the directive, even his expression gave a worried look that pained me.

"Elliot..." I huff for air, before smiling guiltily. "Thank you, but... I can't keep doing this to you."

"Doing what?" the puppy asks sadly.

I frown. "Letting myself touch you when... when," my eyes water, "I _feel_ how strongly you feel about me." I shake my head, blinking the tears out. "It's wrong, and careless, and I don't know what I'm doing."

"What do you mean?" Elliot asks, passion still in his breath. "How could you feel wrong about this?"

"I'm not afraid of you anymore, Elliot," my voice shakes. "But I'm not like you-- I don't want to change. I'm afraid of losing myself again, right when I'm just starting to find out."

"You don't need to c-change, Wraith--" he starts gently.

I cut him off fearfully, "But I _will_. If I gave myself completely to someone, I will change. I can't control that. I can only control who I could give myself to. And..." I shake my head. "I'm... I'm not ready to decide, Elliot."

He sighs quietly. "I know." I look up at him, slightly surprised by the response. He smiles at me, though I knew he was sealing darker feelings inside himself. "Wow, I'm the worst. Just a selfish asshole, huh?"

I wipe my face as we space apart from each other. "No," I sniff, "You're not anymore. You're already better than that already."

His eyes fall. "If I was, I would've never asked to kiss you, or made it seem okay when I know you're still not ready."

I argue, "I'm the one who _agreed_ to kiss you."

"But I tried to make it seem like the right choice. I should've known better," He backfires in frusteration-- I already knew it was moreso with himself than me. "I'm sorry, Wraith. I didn't mean to pressure you; I just... became selfish again."

One of my hands press his firm shoulders. "Stop blaming yourself for everything," I demand with a frown.

"Hah... It's funny you actually care about how I feel," Elliot chuckles loosely as his eyes meet mine again. "I never did, y'know-- b-blame myself for anything, I mean. I did whatever I wanted. 'Til I met you."

I smirk, teasing, "That almost sounds like a complaint. You'd just never get away with it in our squad."

 

7\. pathfinder

// **gardens**

It was getting pretty late. During the Gala, people had approached me to offer me work on other planets once the off-season begins. I listened to their proposals, and took business cards, but... I wasn't terribly interested. All that mattered to me was winning the Games; it was my best shot at getting answers.

Strangely enough, I've barely seen the friendly robot. I did spot him talking to strangers occassionally, but I didn't have the free moment to bother him. I searched the villa for a friendly smiling monitor without any luck, until I peak out the side of the backyard, beyond the pool-- I spot a stone bench between a large circle of bushes and flowers, surrounding it. Pathfinder sat on the bench, looking up at the glimmering sky. There weren't any lights in this garden; his silhouette is barely outlined by the glow of his monitor.

I step carefully as I walk towards him. "Hey Path," I say, stepping over some rocks. "Did you have a good time?"

"Oh, Wraith! Yes friend!" he beeps cheerily, yet he kept looking at the sky.

I smile as I step beside him. "I was doing that earlier too. The sky is beautiful here."

Pathfinder's pupil whirls towards me. "Friend, I'd like to know your thoughts on something," he says. I nod silently. "I once met a kind young woman on my travels in Solace. We would stargaze together often." I blink curiously; did Parhfinder have past romantic experiences? The monitor flickers to a worried expression. "She was bright and cheerful-- a beautiful girl! But when I visited her home, I saw pictures of her family. She told me they were all dead. The truth was, she was alone and deeply sad; the least she wanted to do was pretend that she wasn't."

I sit down besides Pathfinder's voice dips softly: "One day, she said she loved me."

My mouth gapes. "What did you say?"

He turns his head toward the flowers. "I said I didn't know what that means. She just smiled." The tall MRVN unit gives a long pause. I realizd how still he is-- I rarely ever saw the quick and mobile robot stay this still. "She killed herself in a river a few days later."

My chest feels hollow all at once. "Path..." I whisper gently. "I'm so sorry. That isn't your fault."

"Perhaps, friend," he nods. "But you have known me for long enough, and I wanted to know your thoughts on this: do you think it's possible for me to love?"

I stare at the robot as he turns back to me. It's chilly out here-- which must mean nothing for him, though I cross my thin arms as I think back on my experiences with Pathfinder. He always cares. He always acts. He becomes worried. He _wonders_ about the world around him. He becomes doubtful, and hopeful. As a human, I always felt it was difficult to grasp Pathfinder's personality in an intimate and tangiable way. But I was wrong; it's not difficult at all. I smile a bit. "Path, you've always been able to love. I don't really know what that means for me-- but when I see the things you do for this squad, and for me... I don't see why you wouldn't be able to."

Pathfinder nods slowly. "I think I experience love too." His voice lifts, "I feel it like a circuit that connects me to another planet. I imagine futures and possibilities I never considered! I doubted I felt the same love as humans when we last talked. But when I began to feel it a second time, it was clear it couldn't be a mistake. Friend," he looks at me. His screen flashes different emotions quickly before shutting black. His tone slurs sadly: "I realize now I loved her. I just didn't know how to say it."

"Oh... Path," my throat aches. I offer my arms; he notices and nods. I give the heartbroken robot a tight hug-- to my surprise, his sleek torso is actually warm, a reprieve from the late night chill. The smooth hum of his core systems makes me smile.

"You're the first I've asked that told me I could," Pathfinder says quietly. "Don't feel sad for me; I'll find peace soon, friend."

His words felt so strongly unfair, that my eyes gently stung. Path knows emotion as real and as humanly like anyone else. I never explicitly doubted him, but I was ignorant too-- I didn't know what he was capable of.

As his heated torso protects me from the cold night, I feel a deep inspiration blossom in my chest. If Pathfinder can realize he can love, then why can't I? It took me long enough to accept I can't be alone; friendship could satisfy that much. But love was another beast I still didn't understand.

Maybe it's natural for some people; Ajay exudes warmth and compassion. But for me, I had to fight to find my deeper emotions-- or maybe it's just buried so deeply in me, I have to bleed and hurt to know if I've even found it.

I think about Bloodhound, Elliot, Anita, maybe even Octavio. They were all trying to reach me in different ways, telling me the same message: I've been bleeding long enough.


	30. [ the final round ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When I originally wrote this chapter (on Wattpad), it was in two parts. But I'm putting them together for AO3 <3 Thanks so much for reading this far!! <3 Also, I hope you enjoy the introduction of my first OC into this narrative.~

// **elliot's apartment** , the next day

_Cold water drips against my cheek; I flinch._

_It started raining unexpectedly in the last late hour of the Apex Gala. The downpour leaks from the edge of the rooftop above me, so I step back. Most people had left-- only staff were left behind, cleaning up the villa behind its closed front doors. Hours of lively chatter is replaced with silence and a sudden humidity that felt like a dense chill.I look towards Elliot as he steps to approach his car ride home. I open my mouth suddenly, realizing our squad was finally alone: "Alexander was at the party. Blisk and him confirm that he's not trying to kill us anymore."_

_Elliot's brows knit as he steps back under the rooftop, "Wait, Blisk? He told you... we're safe?" His tone presses with confusion._

_"Yeah," I sigh. "I'll tell you more in the car."_

_He blinks again anxiously. "Oh, wait, so you_ are _coming home with us? But you're not sleeping at--... Good! I g-guess you can come along if you wanna pick up your stuff."_

_I look between him and Pathfinder, beside me. The robot blinks at me curiously. I blush. "Can I just... stay over?"_

_"Of course," he blurts right away, then wipes his rain-touched face before chuckling, "What? Are you trying to move in too?"_

_I shake my head_.

 

"What if it's our last day as a squad?" I sigh into Elliot's bathroom mirror. It's the morning after the Gala-- the very last game of the season starts midday today. The trickster just smirks at me through the mirror. He looks more smug than he should, and I can't tell why; I slept on the same sofa as before. I turn my face and take a moment to scan Elliot's body language.

He's just standing beside me, combing and styling his hair in the mirror. He notices me looking at him and bumps his hip on me. "Well you're in luck; I'm h-handsome _and_ annoying. I'll find time to bother ya, no matter what." Elliot's eyes light up playfully. "And hey, stay focused on the prize, woman!" His rougish lips spead as he adds with a sultry slur, "Unless you need some _extra_ motivation." I redden as I pick up my facewash over the sink.

"...No," I try to hide a smile. "You're full of it, you know that?" Not to mention I already had all the motivation I needed. Besides my deal with Blisk, I knew I wanted another conversation with Elliot soon, especially after my talk with Pathfinder. I felt like I left something unsaid.

"Just don't get too worried, mkay?" he smirks as he carefully fluffs his layered wavy hair. I sigh; champion squads were supposed to change their team comp after winning a season. It didn't matter if it were one or two members; but even if I kept Elliot or Path, it felt strange to lose either of them. The tanned man pats down his hair calmly. "And if we don't win? Sure, you lose out on Blisk's deal, but," he blows a kiss, "you just might keep being stuck with us.~ Win-win I say."

I stare at his playful expression for a moment, mine being relaxed but serious. "Losing isn't an option for me." I turn back to the sink and rub clear gel soap over my face. The cool liquid foams against my cheeks.

Pathfinder knocks on the open door behind us; we look towards the tall lanky robot leaning under the door frame, and realize he's covered in... stickers?

Rainbow unicorn stickers.

"Friends!" He cries as the colorful robot gives us two thumbs up gleefully. "I recieved these decal stickers from a fan a long time ago, and thought I'd do my part to look good for the final round!"

I gawk motionlessly, soap slowly slipping down my cheeks. "Brooo," Elliot suddenly shakes into a guaffaw, "You look fuckin' amazing!"

The robot stands straight as he fits under the bathroom ceiling, his arms proudly on his hips. "Yes! I've never had so many colors on me at once!"

I couldn't hold it in-- I let out a burst of laughter before I turn around to splash water into my face. I couldn't imagine the Apex Games without these boys; so, I won't. Not yet.

We still had a game to win.

 

// **dropship** , near king's canyon

It was ten minutes until the round began. A female's announcer voice speaks through the sealed lower hull, where twenty squads wait for the center cargo hatch to open for them: "Prepare for drop; you may unbuckle your seats and stand beside the yellow lines..." The safety instructions continue as metal clicks snap throughout the echoing hull-- I unstrap from my seat beside the boys.

"Party time, huh? Our specialty!" Elliot grins as he swings off his seat. The strapped chairs were all attached to the walls of the interior, so I had been keeping an eye on Bloodhound's squad across the far right of the hull.

I wave slightly to them. A sheen of light passes over their metallic goggles as they turn towards me, only 50 meters away and anticipation in their tense posture. They wave to me, and stride near the hatch-- they grab a leather strap overhead, and nod to me gently.

I knew Bloodhound wouldn't take it easy on me. It was a disservice if they did.

Suddenly, the hunter nearly is knocked forward as Ajay jumps on their back like an excited bear cub. She grins to me. "Hey!! Good luck out d'ere!! Yuh need it," she yells brightly over the plane engines. Even the white-plated tank Gibraltar walks behind them and gives me a thumbs up.

"You too!" I yell with a smirk, grabbing my own leather strap overhead. It'll be what I hold onto as I lean over the open cargo hatch, and the last thing I feel before the round begins.

The hatch begins to open, bathing the hull in bright light as a strong gust shakes through the walls-- and that's when I finally see it. A contestant, once shrouded by the shadows, approaches the edge of the hatch; someone I've never seen before in the Games.

Their dark stature and build seems lean and masculine, but I realize from their sheen that they're a machine... They were clothed in dark combat gear, with ripped shrouds over their smooth screened faces. I've never seen them before. How could that be? It's the final round of the season. Nobody gets here by coincidence. Their squadmates were also similarly styled robots, but simplier and more lanky in design: one with a rouge hood and another with a blue one. My mind races as I give a hard stare, trying to remember anything I knew about them or their squad.

The tallest robot's expressionless face turns to me; nothing reacts to me, except the blue underglow of three holes in the center of their face. _You're seen_ , my voices warn. My neck feels cold as I look away in a panic-- my eyes glancing to Pathfinder and Elliot, trying to think of what to do. A real Apex contestant isn't just a shooter; they're the strategist. I was _supposed_ to recognize my opponents, and know what we're up against.

Now, I had no idea.

 

// **water treatment** , king's canyon

"I haven't seen them before either," Pathfinder notes into our comms. I sigh as I reluctantly swipe up a P2020 and run into another hallway, following the glass corridor into the next building.

I could see Elliot jogging in another glass hallway. "Y-Yeah, well, let's just pay attention-- they can't have more tricks up their sleeve than me," he says confidently, despite his stutter. I catch a glance of him pause at his reflection; he smoothes out his hair by the glass walls, and I roll my eyes before I push a door open.

"Glad you're so focused, Elliot," I mutter quieter than my mic could pick up. I kick a nearby case of light ammo upwards and grab hold of it. Then, I spot a heavy marksman rifle by the stairs. "What the hell?" I smirk. "I found another Longbow."

Pathfinder beeps, surprised, "Do we all have Longbows, friends?" My feet quickly tap down the stairs.

"I guess so," Elliot's voice remarks, unsatisfied. I'm by the lower level now, and I notice the floors are empty. There's no loot. _I didn't see anyone land with us..._ _Pretty sure_ _Path's been here_. I push open a door with my forearm, striding slowly into the open air, aiming my Longbow with lethal intent-- but no one is around me. Mirage continues, "Imagine spuh-spawning three heavy weapons and _none_ of them are a Spitfire or Wingman. Let me know if any of you find an R-99?"

I say quietly, "Copy that... has anyone heard steps? Where did you loot, Path?" My chest races as I suddenly hear footsteps around me. My eyes widen as I turn.

The strange dark robotic contestant was mid-air above me, prepared to dive a dagger through my shoulder.

I thought my reaction could be quick enough: a mistake. I dive out of the way, tripping back into the doorway I came from. My back slams into the cold concrete floors as two shadows approach beside me. I knew it was their squadmates when I hear robotic arms whirl forcefully against the doors. I gasp as the metal doors slam, pinching my left ankle-- I feel a deep crunch within my left ankle. Heat and blood rush through my boot. My scream of pain feels like it came from my stomach, wishing I had only a moment to brace myself.

My eyes sting as I inhale in that split second. "Wraith??" Elliot's worried voice calls into my headset. I glare at the red and blue hooded robots pressing the doors in place, the metal and scraping intensity digging into my crushed ankle. My teeth grit as I realize the way they're just staring back at me. This robot squad is in perfect sync with each other-- they plotted their moves against me perfectly. But why attempt to break me? They could've killed me instead, and gotten me out of the round. This wasn't planned by someone who wanted to win.

They wanted me to feel pain.

As the doors release my ankle, I breathe heavily, and a strong metal grip grabs my hair from behind me. I grunt as they raise me up to their leaning face. "There's no more time for the Games," the smooth mechanical voice states. It was deep and masculine, and strangely familiar. "I am glad to have found you-- but seeing you here is disappointing. You have forgotten the mission objective." The other two begin shooting as I see a blur of Pathfinder swing past the open doors; Elliot's yelling into our comms feels distant.

I mutter bitterly, "If you knew me, you'd know not to underestimate me." My right arm draws out the Kunai knife from my belt as I twist myself into them, using their grip on my hair against them. My knife shoves into their waist at an upward angle, but it barely makes a screeching sound within the mechanical torso. Warm streaks of oil pass over my gloves before the robotic figure punches up my jaw-- I'm knocked on my back again, my left foot beginning to feel limp as it continues to throb with pain.

The dry voice states, "You may be a tenth generation Pilot, but you are still not the Pilot you were."

"What are you t-talking about?" I spit as I try to look up, dizziness rocking my head. My elbows lean back and press hard against the gritty concrete, trying to get myself up.

The hooded robot scoffs. "As if _you_ wouldn't know what that symbol means." They point to my right breast, the white-grey symbol below the padded leather. (Lore speculation note: By established Titanfall lore, the symbol on Wraith's chest actually represents 10th gen Pilots.) My eyes narrow. "A shame how little it shows anyway," he continue, belittlingly.

"You speak a lot of bullshit for a fucking robot," I snap angrily, my skin crawling.

He retrieves a G7 Scout from his back, reloading it without any hurry, despite Pathfinder and Elliot fighting the other two robotic squadmates by the doors. "We will speak outside of the Games. Goodnight, 'Wraith'," the hooded robot says calmly. Though, their forearm raises against the open door.

" _Hey!!_ " Elliot shouts angrily as he fires his Havoc into the room, towards the large figure-- but suddenly, a circular bright shield of blue light appears against their arm, and the trickster's energy shots freeze upon contact instead of penetrating. The shield disappears as the energy shots get blasted back with the same velocity. I hear the impacts of the energy shots into the trickster, and Elliot's fading groan as the hooded figure looks back to me.

I don't shut my eyes-- I glare into the soulless black reflection of his mask as he fires the final shots, until cold and darkness overwhelms my senses.

 

// **transportation hub under repulsor** , king's canyon

I feel unpleasant chills again.

Flinching from grated metal against my face, I rise slowly, rubbing my eyes with my palms. A robotic grip touches my arm. I quickly snarl as I pull, "Get _off_ \--"

"Wraith," Path's voice speaks softly as I look up at the kneeled, unicorn-stickered robot. My glazed eyes soften. I let his hand keep my arm. "I did not mean to startle you! We are approaching Elliot's revive station, friend.

I take a long exhale. _Oh thank god. We're still in the final round._ I bend my knee to take a step up, but realize my left ankle still felt weak. My balance wavers-- but Pathfinder's grip on me steadies me. "What the..." I breathe, annoyed. "The medic bots were supposed to heal me by now."

Pathfinder nods. "I've been told, unfortunately, your bone fractures are more complex than they expected! Pain relievers have been injected, friend, but additional treatment will be needed to return your ankle to its previous state." My teeth clench as I lean against the metal wall.

" _Damnit_ ," I hiss as I then slam a palm against the wall. "That squad is trying to sabatoge me. I--"

The hull begins to loudly open. I shut my lips as I straighten. "It's time to jump, Wraith," Path notes. I start to focus, scanning the area around us. The distant Repulsor buildings, stacked with satillites, don't seem to have open doors or movement-- was it looted, even?

"Thanks for the revive, Elliot," I say as I click on my headset, my feet readying to jump out. I focus my weight on my stronger foot, then nod to Pathfinder.

My feet kick off the edge of the dark ship, back again towards the blinding bright King's Canyon. I hear Elliot's rough breath. "Don't thank me yet; they're chasing the hell out of me." Of course, the trickster still has time to chuckle. "I'm really _not_ into it." I see him duck into the nearby building. Then, I spot movement.

"They're by the cars, Mirage!" I shout before my jets blast, softening my landing.

Suddenly, a metal arm clutches my waist. "Equip quickly, friend!" Pathfinder calls, and my boots lift from the ground. Bullets begin to fly past us, and Path reacts quickly. He grapples onto the building and suddenly jumps, with surprisingly smooth velocity. My eyes widen as I feel like I'm flying, and I do-- he lets go of me toward a nearby shack of loot. My stomach sinks as I drop and roll into the shack, and quickly pick up whatever I find.

A Peacekeeper, with shotgun ammo and a blue shotgun bolt. I quickly shift the bolt in place as I smirk. _I actually might live through this._

I look up and see a Mozambique on the other side, and pick it up. _Well... maybe._

I run into another nearby shack and find blue body shields-- as soon as it activates and blue hexagons of light scatter around my body, I feel safe to fight. The gunshots are still blazing through the gas station of the hub. I hear Elliot's Longbow shots the most.

"Elliot, I'm on my way-- still three left?" I start sprinting despite my limp towards the cars, focusing all my weight on my good ankle.

"Yep," he grunts through the comms, "Blue hoodie robot is low on shields right now, o-over behind the truck."

I grab and jump over the low wall near the covered transport truck. Sure enough, a blue-hooded robot was refilling their shield. I raise my Peacekeeper against their denting mask, and their armor shields shatter. With satisfying timing, the Games' protection technology locks the robot's knees-- I could tell by the way their calves jerked back. They topple to the ground. If robots couldn't feel pain, they needed a different safety feature to signal that I could stop shooting them. I smirk. "One downed. Where's the others?"

I realize that the gunfire is quiet now. I blink and whisper as I lean on the truck, "Elliot? Path?"

Pathfinder's voice replies cautiously, "I've lost sights on them."

"Yeahh, not to mention," Elliot says gruffly, "I checked down the hill. Spotted Bloodhound's squad. Yeah. Far, but they're gonna try and third party us." I peek from the side of the car, hearing footsteps near me, though the echos made it difficult to pinpoint. His voice continues, "We need to finish up, like, now."

_You're seen._

It happened in a split second of instinct. My eyes widen as I look toward another car, and see the towering dark cloaked robot jumping over it with an R-99 clutched in their grip. I raise my Peacekeeper-- I miss my first shot. Deep within, I'm panicking.

 _What do I know about them? What do I know?_ I barely knew anything on this scenario... except they could reflect bullets if they wanted to. Could they still shoot while they did that?

No time to hesitate. If I did nothing, I'm dead-- and if this didn't work, I'm dead also. I raise my Peacekeeper while my other hand reaches for my hip holster. His robotic forearm raises defensively, to my relief. I hoped he'd expect the Peacekeeper's powerful blast, and expect to shield himself from it.

But I lower the large shotgun. I rise my Mozambique.

The spread of the bullets on the shotgun pistol were always too wide to effectively do what it wanted: a shot to the head and two to the shoulders. The robot's strange bright blue bullet shield raises, and I fire twice. There was no time to dodge bullet reflections; the agile robot made sure of that.

Still, of course, all the reflected pistol shots miss me.

And more importantly, the shots didn't miss the shield-- it weakens and lowers. The robot slows, realizing their mistake. They just closed the distance between themselves and a Peacekeeper. I toss the Mozambique and raise the real dangerous gun with a cruel smirk.

I fire up their neck. The hooded machine stutters their steps back from the powerful blast, and a wild buzz emits from their shattered mask. I fire again. They drop to the ground-- their body dissipates in light as the Apex Games teleports them back to the ship, and a loot box begins to generate. Sweat peels off my brow; my body becomes acutely aware of how edged I feel. "Leader killed. That was a squad wipe." That felt like a Champion kill, even if this round was far from over. I turn and look at the main building, and see Elliot jump off its raised balcony. "Duuude," he laughs boisterously, "That was freakin' insane. _You're_ insane! Y-you know that, right?!"

"Thanks. Shield up, Elliot," I huff in attempt to stay tireless, and I shift through the competitor's supplies. I find the R-99, and happily pick it up, quickly snapping in all the attachments I find.

"Yowie. Good pep talk," Elliot frowns as he shrugs, and activates a shield battery. I smirk; I didn't mean to offend, I was just focused. I move closer to the distracted, shielding man. With a quick boot kick into the truck, I raise myself up enough to kiss the tall trickster's cheek. He blinks wildly as his tanned skin stains red. "P-people are watching right now, you know that right?" That was true; millions of people were watching right now. It's the final round of the Apex Games, after all.

I chuckle as I turn around and pick up a light ammo belt from the box; I put it around my torso. "Come on, we have to reposition fast. Bloodhound's squad is coming." Then, I blink as I look back at Mirage. "Wait. Where was the red-hooded robot? The third?"

Pathfinder grapples in suddenly, and strides his slowing footsteps beside me. "When you took out the leader, the third was disabled! Surely, they are merely extentions of the central AI within the leader."

Suddenly, I hear a thundering rip through the air-- the cutting sound of Bloodhound's mask whirling into another state. It was their signature move; it was the ability to see enemies easier than ever before, and terrify them, too, with their glowing optics.

I don't need to say anything: Pathfinder sets a long escape up the walls of Repulsor. "It's time to fly on a zipline!" he cheers. I try to dart for it, but I made the mistake of using my weak ankle first-- I nearly fall on my face before the boys catch my arms. I nod graciously as Path pulls me forwards. I take out my compact zipline trolley just in time; shots fly past us as I lead our squad towards the towering walls of Repulsor.

My heart drops as we land on the walls, and I see Bloodhound and Ajay dashing for our zipline. "Even if we get away," I tell them, "Bloodhound can track us. _Easy_. And my ankle is fractured. How are we supposed to disappear without a trace?"

"Aw, Wraaaith; you're so tiny, you wouldn't even leave footsteps," Elliot jokes between heavy breaths as he crouches, hiding from the open ledge.

Pathfinder's monitor lights up with a bulb and an idea. "No footsteps?"

I blink as I start to worry what he means. "Path..."

"Hang on to me, friends! We can fly out of here!" he cheers. Pathfinder happily grabs my waist again as he shoots a grapple towards a warehouse below us-- Mirage panicks as he hurriedly hugs into the robot's shoulders and over my arms.

I didn't think we were scared of heights, yet we both scream as the pinkish Pathfinder jumps down.

 

// **bridges**

It felt like we swung for an hour, even it were only a few minutes. With a strange detour through Swamps, we managed to escape the hunter for now, and retrieved healing supplies-- we were finally ready for another fight.

I open the metal doors and it reveals a tall sprawling view of Bridges, one of the central locations of King's Canyon. We came out of the Hydro Dam's bunker built into the mountain, and I bite my lip as I look at the banners above us. It was the third Ring. This could be the final fight.

Pathfinder jumps off the concrete ledge first. I murmur as I start slowly down the stairs, "The screens say four squads left... including us." The pain killers were starting to wear off; my limp is becoming more noticable. Every step aches.

"Wraith," Elliot says softly. I look up behind me at him, and his brows were pressed with concern over his dark soft pupils. "Let's switch-- my Longbow for your Peacekeeper. We'll push while you hang back." The lanky robot pauses on the slope as he looks between us.

"I agree with Elliot, friend," Path nods.

I frown stubbornly. "I can still fight, guys."

Mirage scoffs as he skips down the stairs, moving around me. " _Yeah_ , I noticed, ya crazy girl. C'mon." He puts a hand out to help me down. "You're still hurt-- you can't run from a bad _sen-sey-s-situation_ as well as I can right now."

I groan reluctantly. I take his hand as I step down with relative ease, and then take out my Peacekeeper and belt of shotgun ammo. I hold it out to him. "You're right," I sigh. Then, we begin hearing faint echoing footsteps. Elliot quickly tosses me the Longbow and heavy ammo belts as we all turn as our stances shift defensively.

Someone was coming through the Hydro Dam bunker. This steep slope made for terrible positioning for a final gunfight. It wasn't the finale we expected... But we didn't have a choice now. I check the Longbow's ammo as I glance up to Pathfinder.

"If I get close quarters combat, Elliot's right-- I'm an easy target." I frown as I state, "I'll be right behind you guys." They both nod at me, and Path grapples himself back up to the doorway. Elliot sends a holograph up the stairs as he runs for the other doorway.

I attempt to move quickly. The battle begins to feel like a blur of instinct and adrenaline; pain was vibrating through my ankle now, but I couldn't care. I'm running-- damn it all, I run to get in position. My mind is elevated beyond the speed and fury of battle. This chaos? It's all muscle memory, or a dance. People say that Pilots know how to move through the battlefield like birds know how to fly. Maybe it's true. Somewhere deep in my mind, I feel free; I feel the music.

 

//

 

_The rusted hallway's lights flicker; it's late at night, almost misty. Anita's sweet deep scent passed me as she brought me to my room door. She stood across from me, silent and patient. I smirked faintly. "Thanks, Anita. I feel better now that I talked about... all that." It was after I confided to her about Alexander, and she walked me home from the hospital._

_"You're welcome." Her dark lips smiled before they fall with curious tension. "Have you... ever fallen in love, Wraith?" I blinked and stared, pink-faced. I left the silence hang for a few moments, because I had been wondering the same thing. Anita smirked brightly, as if she had gotten her answer. "Hah. Don't look so worried; I think you will."_

_"What makes you so convinced?" I murmured, glancing at my doorway._

_The chocolate lipped woman smiled. "It's written all over that gawking face of yours; you're a woman open to new things, new people."_

_I laugh a bit. "Almost sounds like flattery."_

_Anita replies smugly, "It is. It took you a long time to get here, Wraith; your face was how I looked a couple years ago. But the more bad shit you survive, the more powerfully you fall in love with people." Her smile dies into a faint smirk. "Whoever gets that power from you... they'll be lucky beyond their damn dreams."_

 

_//_

 

Grenades burst the doors of the Hydro Dam bunker wide open, nearly flying them into me. I dip back and clutch my fist, sending me and my Longbow into the Void. _You're seen! RUN!_

More running. I tried-- but then, another grenade must have slipped behind me. A powerful blast sends me off the ledge; I knock my good ankle against the edge of a boulder as I flip down the slope, and gasp through my teeth in pain. The world is becoming unreal; my instincts are alive while my memories drift elsewhere, numbing all the pain from my reality.

 

_//_

 

_Elliot's wide hand was on my back, and his sultry scent was close. We were dancing during our first date. I stepped slowly to the rhythm of the song; smiles rested on our faces despite the conversations finally dying down after the long evening. I felt a tickle-- his dark brown waves graze my forehead as his jaw leans down. I looked up._

_"Tired yet?" the warm trickster smirked, a little too close._

_I blushed and shook my head. "No. Just... wondering."_

_"Wondering what?"_

_I started slowly, "What it's like to be you-- dancing with a weird Void-tainted girl that has nothing in common with most of the women you've probably dated." I shrugged. "I feel... a little self-concious I guess."_

_He chuckled. "It's pretty good, if you ask me." I raised a brow, silently questioning his sincerity. He laughed a bit louder, "W-What? It is! Wraith," he grinned, "you'll never be the girl that people expect you to be. You'll always surprise them, a-and in good ways. That's what I like about you." His forehead rested on mine for a moment; my face heatened until I couldn't feel it. "Everything about you is a g-gur-gorgu... beautiful mystery." The stumbled compliment didn't sit long; we both laughed._

 

_//_

 

My blood drips from the rocks where I fell against-- part of my boosters stopped working. I grit my teeth as I use all my strength to sit up. "Wraith!" Pathfinder's voice calls as I see him sprint to me. "Another squad joined the fight!" I see some squad member jump off a rock behind Path, but I raise my Longbow at the same time they raise their weapon. I take them out with two quick shots of the marksman rifle. I reload the magazine with a heavy breath.

"Elliot, where are you?" I demand in the comms over the local gunfire. No response. My eyes widen at Path. "Is he down?"

Path nods before grabbing my waist again and lifts me slightly; I was a bit grateful as I felt my own weight release from my ankles, offering faint relief. "Lifeline managed to fire him down. We need cover!" Quickly, his grapple clutches the cliff nearby, and we swing off towards the choke point between Bridges and the watchtower beneath Repulsor-- at least to heal before anything else. My eyes sting from the harsh wind as I cling tightly to the robot's torso.

 

//

 

_The first time I met Pathfinder, I didn't know he was a contestant in the Games. I accidentally fell asleep in the Apex HQ waiting lobby, waiting to reserve Elliot and I's first training range. I had spent so much time watching past Games footage and researching the competition, I barely gave myself time to rest._

_"Oh no!" A robotic voice beeped as I felt a cold poke to my forehead. My brows furrowed as I started to wake. "A premature fatality?? Or not! Good morning, Wraith!" The painfully cheery voice made me grunt as my eyes adjust. The blue robot is leaned over me at a surprising close distance, which made me jump in my seat._

_"HEY!--oh," I blurted. "It's just a MRVN." I blinked as the robot straightens up. "Wait. You recognized me."_

_I saw the grinning yellow screen on his torso now. His lanky arms met his hips as he proclaimed happily, "Yes! You are Wraith, a player of the off season matches. I just wanted to help, friend, in case you were dead."_

_That... was odd. "You've never seen someone sleeping?"_

_The MRVN replies with usual glee, "Oh yes. But dead people are just so pale, like you."_

_I narrow my eyes as I stand up, harshly pushing the robot away from me. He clinks a step back as his monitor shows a surprised blue expression. I replied lowly, "Is that a threat?"_

_"No, friend!" the robot insists with raised metal palms. Again with that 'friend' thing. "I have not explained-- I meant it as a compliment!"_

_"How??"_

_The robot's monitor turns back to a friendly smile. "People fear you, Wraith. In the Ring, it doesn't seem as if you could ever die! Your Void powers are strange and hard to understand," he nods, "and you show neither pain nor pleasure in a kill. Your presentation makes you less of a competitor, and more like death itself." I stared as my fists eased, surprised by the robot's capacity for abstract thought, which he had stated so simply, as if a fact._

_"You're a strange MRVN unit... But thanks," I smirked._

_He extended a slim metallic hand. "My name is Pathfinder, and happy to be your new friend!"_

 

//

 

"Wraith," Path's voice says quietly from behind. "Are you sure about this, friend?"

I nod, laying low to the ground. After healing, Path helped me back on a tall ledge, and I laid in the grass as I aimed my Longbow against the surviving squads. I don't look up at him as I adjust my scope. "They have to get close to get a shot on me, because I'll know when they aim. I can dodge-- but I think I'll shoot quicker."

"Very well," the robot says. I feel his wide metallic hand on my shoulder, and I look up to Path's wide, lit pupil. Somehow the dimness within it seemed gentler than usual. He whirls, "Be careful, friend. I will focus on whoever attacks you." I nod, and Pathfinder rises before he hops off the cliff, and flies with his grapple into the battlefield. I aim my Longbow steadily.

 

//

 

_I didn't know much about nature, to be honest. But I knew this: only Bloodhound had an oak scent that smelled sweeter than the rest of an entire forest. The tall handsome hunter smiled at me, their long blonde hair tied behind them, as we walked up the mountain trail. It was during our morning hike; faint streaks of yellow light fall through the trees. We were making our way back after finishing the trail, but I still had lingering thoughts. "I'm still curious about your... rebellious past," I said quietly, thinking of their pierced tongue and their short reasoning for it._

_Ástin smirked coyly before their smooth accent responds, "Curious?"_

_My cheeks heatened. "I'm just having trouble imagining you as a deviant."_

_The hunter chuckled, as if amused by me. "Imagine that, once, I hunted trouble-- I used to think I could control the chaos I started." Their neck leaned slightly to the side as they relent, "But one day, I picked the wrong fight; the IMC found me."_

_"So that's how you got to the mentally ill facility," I noted._

_They smiled again. "No. That was much later." A sigh from the gentle-faced blonde. "I wasn't a good person, astviner. I may kill with faith and honor now, but it is still without hesitation. You have no right to trust I make better choices than a thief."_

_Something about that made me upset-- it felt decieving, like an ask for pity. I frowned, my boots shifting loudly into a halt against the gravel hiking trail. Ástin blinked at me as their steps pause. "Kill me now, then," I said, crossing my arms._

_"What?" Their eyes widened fearfully._

_"If I wanted you to do it," I replied sharply, "it'd be the right thing to do: to kill me."_

_With a shake of the head, Bloodhound's gaze fell. "You don't get to decide when you die; it is not your time."_

_"But don't you?" I demanded as my hip turned, my stance shifting more defensively. "You decide when other people die, isn't it?"_

_"I am an instrument for the gods," their strained voice rose as their body was still, "not death itself-- if they fall, it was their time."_

_"Then look," I growled, "I'm only going to ask you this once, Ástin. Don't try to act like a righteous killer, and still ask for my pity. Just... don't," I shook my head. "I killed dozens of people just when I woke up in that facility. I've killed a hundred more since. I'd like to pretend that all of them deserved it-- but I don't. I know what I did. I live with it." I paused, my eyes stinging against my will. "So what? Am I a bad person?"_

_I felt their warm palms embrace my shoulders as Bloodhound approaches closely. "No," they whisper, softness in their blue pupils. "Every warrior asks themselves this, Wraith. Nature is cruel; you became what you needed to be to survive." They smile weakly. "Some are given peace and acceptance when they face reality. We were given war."_

 

//

 

Bloodhound's helm snaps like a distant twig as I pierced a headshot into it. The thundering echo of my Longbow cascades Bridges as I roll myself away from the ledge, avoiding the return fire as I reload the rifle. "Three squads remaining," a female voice announces calmly.

We were so close to winning this now. I began to roll back to my spot, but fierce, searing shots began to shred my exposed calves and ankles. I gasp as I retreat, huffing heavily as I glance at the blood splatter upon the boulder behind me. This wasn't good. I didn't need _more_ ways to be immobilized. Suddenly, Path's voice whirls, "They've surrounded me friend, I might--"

The radio deadens. "Path?" I feel my stomach drop; my second away from the ledge--away from adding pressure on the enemy squads--just lost me a teammate.

I couldn't lose. But the fight was starting to move up here; both squads knew I was the last one left, and I must be weak to be hanging back this far. Footsteps were echoing the valley now-- one squad was rushing me immediately. I switch to my R-99, and reload it quickly; I knew they were close, because as I do, two Arc Stars land, snapping their place in the grass beside me.

 

//

 

_Octavio and I stared at the view only a little bit longer after he told me about our past. It was strangely calming to stand in silence with him; the man was so talkative, it was hard to imagine that such a silence would be comfortable for him. Yet, it was; it only broke when he began to stare at me with a smirk. I raised a brow in silent suspicion. He said, "You'd be proud of yourself, amiga."_

_"How's that?"_

_The smirk widened. "You never worked well with others-- ooohh, how you'd complain about it.~ Not many people are as hardworking as you, Wraith. But now, you're winning in a squad tournament. With two other people! Está loco, ¿no?"_

_I chuckle a little. "Yeah... I forgot about how much I didn't want a squad at first. But I'm glad I took the risk."_

_Octavio looked strangely smug as he replies, "I know something about risks-- they're fun, aniga, do it more often. Harder to move with sticks in your ass... unless you're into that!~" I roll my eyes a bit to the extreme athlete, but then, a serious question rose in the back of my mind. I bit my lip. The man shrugs innocently. "What? Bad joke?"_

_I exhaled, thinking of all my uncertainty towards the romantic developments in my life. "You pride yourself on risk-taking. How do you know a risk is worth it?"_

_While I thought Octavio would take an extra moment to consider an answer, instead, it's immediate-- his face brightened like a child asked about their favorite toy. "When I know I'd do it again!" He wiggles one of his legs at me. "If I failed the Gauntlet after blowing my legs off, I wouldn't have regretted it. It was worth the risk-- I wanted to know if it would be possible."_

_"So that's it?" I shrugged, unconvinced. "It'd be worth it just because a better outcome was possible?"_

_"Yes," Octavio replied with a gentler tone. My eyes flicker up at him. His eyes are suddenly relaxed and loving-- I swallowed my breath. "I'm living in deja vu, hah," he said as he blinked, looking away and scratching his neck. "You've asked me this before."_

_"Really?" I asked, surprised._

_He nods, giving a lopsided smile. "Sí. You eventually told me that you'd do anything for your future, to find happiness-- you'd risk yourself to find out what it is, because nobody else will do it for you." He comes closer and takes out his bare hand. Hesitant at first, I accept it, putting my smaller hand in his palm. He squeezes it, sending a wave of warmth through me. "You'll find it, Quinn. It was hard for you back then, too-- but you'll find happiness."_

 

//

 

I couldn't feel my face; it was numb, and cold. I spit. I already knew the way that blood seeps like syrup-- it empties like water when I'm the one tasting it.

I was able to phase out before the second Arc Star exploded; but I was still affected by the first. I placed myself further back on the ledge, behind a larger boulder; the two squads left fighting each other, luckily, bought me some time. My hands crunch into the slouched dirt and grass, grabbing something, anything, to help raise my weight.

But I didn't feel real pain-- I couldn't lose this match. Not even the deafening ringing in my ears could hurt me. There are some things that are stubborn, untouchable. Whatever they are, I feel them like a fire within me. I'm not scared.

_I'll never be._

My heart leaps with certain relief when I thought I heard a grapple. My voice becomes a wet rasp as I shout into my comms, "Path!" I hear nothing.

Another voice speaks-- the voices of the void. _You're seen. Hide!_

I sigh, exasperated as I glance at another nearby boulder that still had my gore on it. _Yeah, Void, I'll be right on that with my probably-broken ankles._ Immediately, I hear footsteps. Several of them. I brace myself, grabbing the holster of my gun.

_One._

_Two._

_Three._

I roll over upwards, prepared to unload my entire magazine into the oncoming squads. I think about the people I've met. I think about their faces, vividly-- how alone I felt before I knew anything about who I was, and how they changed that. I realize, before I take my first shot, how much it all meant to me.

My R-99 empties its magazine through the closest leather-strapped woman running towards me, despite her gunfire pelting through my bleeding shoulders, but I notice shouting and the others beginning to turn around. I don't hesitate. I reload in the open and keep shooting, using their distraction against them. Sweat and blood are layered beneath my leather outfit-- I feel a cooling sensation over the searing pain of my open wounds. But the more the recoil of the R-99 shook my arms and torso, the more I couldn't tell the difference anymore. Between the two fighting squads in front of me, I thought my time in the Ring would be over soon.

But instead, gunfire is pinning the squads in the open.

I finally see Pathfinder on the other side, atop the roof of the Hydro Dam bunker-- my eyes are wide with shock as his voice rings to my comms, "I'm up, friend!!" My glance was enough to notice the robot's distant figure had shreds of blue between his pinkish stickers. The voice beeps, "They left me behind with my ressurection shield-- but they were still close, I had to stay quiet!" The agile robot was switching his positioning in disorienting ways, and our shots were pinching and confusing them.

"Glad to hear it Path; let's make it count." My sub machine gun fires into a running man at the edge of the cliff, and he falls with a bloody stumble before his body dissipates in light.

"Two squads remaining," the announcer says cleanly.

No time for relief; I hear footsteps over me. I inhale sharply as I look up on the boulder, and a dark man aims a crimson Spitfire at me. It's hard to focus on him with the raw sun above his shoulder. I brace myself to fire back, despite knowing I'd be recalled if I took any more shots.

But then, the man's shots miss-- his entire body is cartoonishly plucked off the boulder as Pathfinder's grapple yanks him back. I exhale before I see another man running for Path's back. I aim my sights.

With simultaneous gunfire between me and Pathfinder, two enemy squadmates were down. The moment feels in slow motion: the feeling of the coarse dirt beneath my splintered body, the sweat oozing between my gloved fingers, the shudder of my gun, and my teeth finally releasing its iron pressure against itself. I feel a flush of color on my face as the men fall-- I look up at Path with joyous shock.

The champion music plays. Pathfinder runs for me as I scream with girlish delight, an unusual thrill rocking it out of my body. I drop my gun and raise my arms to him from my collapsed position; I'm shaking as all of the adrenaline fades, and the pain kicks in.

He picks me up and nearly lifts me over his shoulder in an estatic, tall hug.  "Friend!! We really won! We really did it!" 

"Goddamn! T-TEAM!!" Elliot's proud voice booms into our comms. "When I get down there, we're all having one fat hug. Well fuckin' done. That was b-beautiful!!"

I hiccup as I hug his wide metallic shoulders, tears falling down my face. There was so much I wanted to say; I wanted to thank Elliot for carrying our team into the round again, and for showing me how to embrace myself as a person. I wanted to thank Path for watching my back always, and being the most trustworthy being I could've ever met. But instead, I choke, tears falling down my bloodied, dusty face. "I love you guys," I sobbed into the robot's shoulder. "Thank you so much. So... damn much."

 

**END OF SEASON ONE**

 

 

**_Extra Scene_ **

_Note: This is not in Wraith's POV!_

// t **he apex headquarters** , after the final round

Within a long metal hallway, a brave brown curly-haired intern rushes over to the cryptic and tall black robot that defeated two members of Wraith's squad. Her bright orange cardigan was a strong contrast to the darker hues of the mercenary-like robot squad. All of the machines turn their heads towards the short woman as her heels tap across the clanking metal floors. "H-hi!" she greets them breathlessly, pausing a few feet away before weakly raising a tablet."You nearly left the building without me finding you! Grats on making it into the last round, M-mister... Addy?"

The tallest, half cloaked robot nods.

"Are you enlisting for the next season?" the woman manages brightly. "I can get you sorted out-- you have an early claim as a previous finalist."

The machine had a deep sturdy masculine voice, but it lacked any grittiness; it was almost unsettlingly smooth. "That won't necessary," it replies. "I need to continue the mission, and retrieve the Pilot." It continues down the hall without another word; and while the intern would ponder what it meant, she thinks how this gave her time for an early lunch break.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey there!! ❤️💫
> 
> Wow. You seriously reached the end of my first season. That is a LOT of words, dawg-- thank you so much for sticking around!!! It seriously means the world to me.
> 
> Important note: Addy, or the mysterious dark hooded robot, is our series's first OC of mine! I'm very cautious about my own OCs in fictional universes, so I hope you enjoy what I got planned for Season 2. ✨. 
> 
> Now, onto the fun stuff; Season 2 notes and scheduling. The exact start, lore-wise, of Season 2 has yet to be determined. I've set it so there are approx. 2-3 months of off-season matches before the next competitive season begins. Whether the narrative of Season 2 begins at the actual competitive season start or earlier, I'm still deciding! I'm playing around with a few ideas. 
> 
> Scheduling-wise, here's what you should expect for the next couple months:
> 
> \- One-shots. On the Wattpad version of this, I post Wraith x Legend one-shots after legends realize how they feel about Wraith in the narrative. I still need to post all of them for AO3, plus the ones I haven't written yet!  
> \- Short story inserts between S1 and S2. These will be fun little stories (published in this book) outside of Wraith's perspective, to show character bond developments between other characters besides Wraith.  
> \- Me taking my time plotting Season 2, and filling that time with lots of other fun one-shots and stories inbetween. My earlier readers are familiar with my writing speed; I can put out a chapter almost every day/every other day. But this happens when I have a pretty solid idea in my head-- the last two chapters took so long because I kept changing my ideas for the ending out of personal insecurity... and, thankfully, I feel a lot more confident about them now (of course, with the ideas that were the most similar to my originals lol). I want that same plot confidence for Season Two! It will take me time to brew the plot enough to get there fully.
> 
>  
> 
> Lastly, I'd love to have a Q&A in the comments! If you have any questions about Season One, my personal writing process, the characters, or anything else, please let me know in the comments!! Feel free to ask in-character questions too and I'll have the characters answer back, Apex Gala Red Carpet style. 😘 I'll definitely respond. 
> 
> And of course, any thoughts or impressions on the series is appreciated! I've been growing as a writer a lot through this fiction, it's been so much fun. Thanks again for reading, friends.❤️
> 
> Love,  
> Alfyie


	31. [ the off-season: path's new friend ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A nice, slower chapter about the day to day life developments between our seasons-- and also in Path's own perspective. ❤️ Enjoy!!

// **somewhere in the mountains** , A32 mainland

It's a bit hard to explain how our squad got here-- after all, our season win was against rather increasingly slimming odds. And now we all live in a house together!

First, you must understand that things began to move very fast for us: job offers and sponsorships were being thrown at us like bird feed. I actually _love_ feeding birds. Except that one raven of Bloodhound's. I'd probably kill that bird. But anyway, we were taken on our own paths for a couple weeks; making our money off of the new fame, as most champions do, flying off and migrating towards our own journeys for a fleeting moment.

Many offers were interesting, but I didn't want to spend more time simply killing. I needed to understand my emotional capabilities. Talking with Wraith at the Gala made me feel a bit more complex than I typically challenged myself with; why do I experience love? When does it start? I began to see that my understandings of romance were primal and fundamentally, well, clueless. I needed to investigate from where much love begins: being single. So I accepted an offer for a reality TV show called 'The Bachelors"-- incredible, I thought! A show dedicated to the very core of the ideals around being alone yet vulnerable and available; it would be perfect for my personal exploration. I performed all my daily routine tasks in a 'bachelor home'; it was a game to seem the most desirable and friendly. I cooked, cleaned, and I had so many friends!! None of who I stayed friends with, but it made for a good show, I'm told. I still don't understand why Jacob doesn't like me-- I only told him that he was pear shaped. It's merely a body type! I still didn't earn the votes I needed to stay longer on the show, but at least now I know some people actually find me attractive. Yay!

Despite the weeks apart, our squad didn't really want all of us to seperate after we became champions. I know! We are so cute. So we prepared a plan: build a house.

With the additional money from our Apex winnings and new work, we were able to hire building contractors all the way from Solace to construct a house for us. We chose a location on a safer side between Foxtail Hill and another mountain, security included. It was bigger than most anyone could afford in the Outkands. It was a house that only Champions could really afford; Wraith believed it was too much. She's right! But we agreed that we should add extra space for the sake of privacy. We barely fit in Elliot's apartment! We didn't have a name for the house, really. But then Elliot said something, and it stuck around: the Greenhouse. It's not an actual greenhouse, and it is not even green, yet, it's ripe with nature all around it. The mixture of concrete and foilage became a signature design of the place; it smelled as fresh as it appeared. We all liked the name.

So that's what brought me here: a strange but pretty white and metal home where I'd spend much of my time training, cooking, or gardening. I'm somewhere inbetween as I put away a clean giant metal bowl in the dark cabinet. Cookies were baking in the oven, and I just finished cleaning. Our kitchen and open living space were prepared flatteringly according to Elliot's tastes; long clean angles, natural materials like wood and granite, and vibrant with tall windows and reminders of the forest. "Path?" a sweet low voice rumbles behind me.

I bend up from looking at the lower counters. I see Wraith, her skin glistening with sweat as she's dressed casually in a black tshirt with sporty shorts. While I did not understand Elliot's animalistic and primal desires relating to exposed skin, it was simply pleasing to know that she was beginning to feel even more comfortable around me. Around us, her friends. I express a grin the only way I can: a bright yellow smile on my monitor. "Wraith! Welcome back. How was your run?" I lean over the counter excitedly as I peer at her, my opticals tightening as I zoom into her face and neck. More sweat than usual, I notice.

"I took a wrong turn, and got pretty lost," Wraith huffs as she draws out a glass from the upper cabinets, then fills it against the fridge's water dispenser. "I'll get used to it around here soon, hopefully. I'm going to shower and pass out for an hour... Make sure Elliot or nobody doesn't try and bother me, alright?" she peeks at me and smiles-- the turn of her lips reveal a very small dimple on her pale left cheek that nobody ever mentions. I enjoy it like a secret. My screen flickers a pinkish smile, which I didn't want to expose; I look down and slap it into a yellow smile again. The pale woman blinks. "Path?"

"Yes!" I insist with slight panic in my wires, "I'll make sure you get your rest, friend!"

Wraith chuckles as she walks past the kitchen and up the metal staircase. "Thanks, pal." The sound of her light footsteps disappear upstairs.

I release a strained whirl of my joints, tension built up from being near her. Wraith was one of my closest friends. Ultimately, I already knew I could have feelings for her, ones I've felt before... but I wasn't ready to assume that. After all, it could be a malfunction! And terrible things happen when I begin to understand love. My memory blinks to an image of Cassandra, a long dark haired woman I knew a long time ago, but felt as vividly as a fan hum.

It only reminds me that humans die quickly, and cannot be brought back from the dead.

I felt that terror several times in the Ring beside Wraith, despite knowing she couldn't truly die within it. Seeing her in pain... it saps my strength in a way I cannot explain. Did my creator intend that? For a robot to understand their strength at all: because lately, I seem to be losing understanding of what I am capable of.

I hear a nearby knock at the front door. I jolt up. Five minutes pass-- it felt like a second. I only knew the exact time from my internal clock. It was too easy for me to become lost in my consciousness; I could never find the bottom of my 'being', or the end of my thoughts. So strange to be alive! After a fast leap, I tap the camera screen beside the doorway to see who it is.

I pause, then open the door slowly with a lit smile. "Hello friend!" I wave with my other hand to the ever-stoic Bloodhound, masked and suited. They were unlike most humans I've known... they rarely ever left their combat suit as far as I could tell. The hunter silently nods at me, aside the sound of jangling beads from their helmet, as expected. I pipe up, "If you're looking for Wraith, she is not available at the moment."

"She is my squad member now, Pathfinder," they say, disgruntled. The thick cloth of their suit shifts audibly as they cross their arms, matched with the shaken beads of their helmet. "Do not attempt to treat me as a mere friend of hers."

"Not at all, friend!" _Oops._ "It will be an hour. She told me she's showering and taking a short sleep to--"

"In that case," Bloodhound raises a palm to pause the explaination, "I will come in and wait."

I stand firm in the doorway, offering my simplest smile. "She does not want to be bothered, friend." Though my design lends naturally to cheerful expression, decades taught me enough about human body language. My metal clutch tightens against the door frame to translate my angered state. "I suggest you wait outside! It's a lovely day."

Bloodhound doesn't step away, but leans back, putting their weight on their back leg. The fair light of the lovely day didn't touch the shadowed optics beneath their mask. "You presume impatiently for a machine," They chuckle. "Wouldn't Wraith be disappointed to hear her trusted friend harmed or turned away her new squadmate, hm?"

My monitor becomes a blank blue state, struggling to express my conflicted frustration in mere symbols. Some humans are merely soft shelled insects at times-- inconvenient to process their reasoning for every little demand. _If only I could disassemble them at my leisure!_ I reveled a bit in the fantasy of humans being as easy to repair as machines. _Then I'd put Bloodhound back together when it was convenient for Wraith. How fun!_ My monitor flickers to another smile. "Well, since I now despise you but Wraith does not-- come in for a short time!" I clank my feet back to give them room. The leather-clad hunter hesitates, but then quickly slides themselves inside.

As their boots creak the sleek wooden floors into the living room, they glance back at me. "You despise me, robot?" they ask, seeming amused about it. "I did not know you were capable of hatred."

I shut the door. "It's entirely personal! Nothing to worry about," I insist with a grin. "I am a robot with a sense of moral integrity! So long as you do not endanger my friends, you will feel bloodgushing agony in the Ring and nowhere else."

"Comforting." The hunter sits on the sofa, not leaving their eyes off of me. The tall dark brick walls added to the home's sleek design, but created more industrial isolation from the natural greenery outside. Their suit sinks into the sofa's deep dark leather with slow unease. "And what have I done to deserve such hatred? I helped your squad in the past season a fair bit-- at the very least, I did much to ensure Wraith protection and support." Their way of speaking was eloquent and fluid, in a way that I enjoyed. And, also, despised even more.

I nod as I step with unwavering merriness to the matching sofa across from them. "You also tried to sabotage our squad by hunting Elliot. Don't test the memory of a robot, human," I warn as I take my seat across from them. "You will likely lose!"

"But that's not enought to despise me," Bloodhound muses. Slowly, they raise their hands, flashing their empty palms before unclicking straps beneath their helmet. The hat and mask begin to slip off at once, and their long blonde hair falls out like a ray of light. "You act as though my presence offends you, metal being." They lean forward, hands clasped in front of their lips as their elbows rest on their knees. "Tell me. I am an engineer of machine and AI myself-- your confused explaination will not confuse me."

As little as I enjoyed it, they made a fair point. Why did I hate Bloodhound now, far more than before? I certainly didn't despise them last season. I zoom my vision into the hunter's bright blue eyes and down their pale expression.

No visual cues of a liar that I could tell. Only true curiosity.

My fingers whirl as I idly tap my monitor in thought, doubting my own dislike. "I have no reason to tell you anything, friend! But if I did, I do wish the rules of the Apex Games were different, despite being a machine designed to follow and understand instruction." I find my arms falling to the side as I admit, "It is difficult to imagine my friends fighting beside different people. Strange, despite knowing the rules all along." I flash a yellow symboled smile. "I can't imagine how you'd explain that, friend!"

The hunter's passive expression seems to fight back their own smile. "You're jealous of me, Pathfinder," they state, plain as facts. "You wish you were in a squad with Wraith again."

My optics blink and readjust. "My personality board does not have a jealousy function," I reply.

"It doesn't need one." The clasp of their hands eases as Bloodhound leans back into the sofa. "Most MRVN units have an AI that is constantly monitored and maintained by humans. But your consciousness may be repairing itself. It is constructing your complexity, emotionally and personality-wise." They nod with serene understanding. "You've 'designed' your own jealousy: a complexity drawn from other emotions and functions."

"What does this compile to, then?" I ask, now interested. "What purpose does jealousy serve?"

A pleasant laugh escapes the blonde's lips. "Welcome to the great mystery of being alive, Pathfinder." Their eyes seem to fixate on my pupil. "Do you still hate me, metal being?"

Somehow, I couldn't find the same resentment within my systems. "No. Now, I am simply confused," I note.

They nod. "You know little about the depths of your design. That's how it feels, doesn't it?"

Discomfort settles once again as my pupil whirls, looking closely at their surprisingly kind face. "How would you know?"

The youthful blonde shrugs. "I have talked with machines almost all my life." Their eyes fall over the glass coffee table between us, staring at a potted red-leafed bonsai tree. "The only thing I have learned is that you may construct the mystery of consciousness slowly, but it is as real as it is for us. That anxious lack of knowing the future, even the present? That is universal." The light of my pupil grows brighter as I zone out, contemplating this thought. A silence passes for four seconds; we were both staring at the tree.

"COOL!" I cheer with a clap. The hunter perks with sudden wide eyes. "My creator would be so pleased!"

Bloodhound smirks. "I have one more question, Pathfinder, since we have the time." They cough. "What are your true feelings for Wraith?"

The tension in my joints heaten before glancing up the stairs. "This is terribly irrelevant of a question! I object!"

The hunter chuckles, "Hm." They lean forward again. "That's all I need to know, then. If you need any assistance with understanding or reworking your AI, Pathf--"

"That won't be necessary, friend," I state firmly, popping another smile. "I appreciate the offer! But only my creator may access my management console."

With a slightly disappointed look, Bloodhound replies, "And if you never find them?" A pause. "You'd truly allow yourself to degrade with time, as a broken tweaking pile in a landfill?"

"What do you mean?" Somehow, I asked without really wanting to know the answer.

"How long has it been since your core OS has been scanned for inconsistencies or cluttering code?" A frown presses on their face. "Your software will collapse without proper maintenance. It could happen in the middle of a battle. The damage could be irreparable depending on your kind of mistakes. You cannot self-debug all of your functions, you _know_ this."

"Friend! I've been wandering for decades," I say confidently. "I'll find my creator soon! They'll fix my errors, which I have temporarily designed a route around. I have them catalogued for their ease."

"Too many re-routes, and nothing will be truly stable." Bloodhound shakes their head. "You need someone you can trust-- I offer you my help." A pause. "Do you trust Wraith?"

Without a pause, I beep, "Yes."

"She trusts me." They smile. "You do not need to follow her footsteps yet. I'll earn your trust, for your own good, if you'll allow the effort."

My screen lights up with a brighter grin. I didn't totally understand how, but I began to feel comfortable with this human. How funny I wanted to crumple their body into a small broken ball of flesh and bone, only minutes before! "I'll allow it!" I stand up excitedly and extend my hand. "I do enjoy new people to hang out with, even if your arrival had made me very angry earlier!"

Bloodhound stands and shakes my hand with a firm, welcoming grip. "People are inconvenient, aren't they?" They smirk.

"My thoughts exactly," I agree cheerfully.

Our hands unlink, and the hunter says musingly, "I won't tell Wraith your little secret."

A pinkish expression floats on my monitor. "What??"

Bloodhound turns and hums into the kitchen. "Heh... I need a coffee." I didn't need to invite them to do it. They brush blonde hair behind their ear as they open and search the cabinets. Then, they say something unexpected: "Your creator would be proud."

"Why's that?" I wonder as I prance onto a bar stool.

"You learned to care about someone else. To _truly_ care about them." They flash a wide, toothy smile at me. "That's far more than some people achieve in their lifetime. Maybe even your creator's."

I give a bright green grin, as if I laughed. It was another mystery of my consciousness: I didn't know why, but I found that statement of theirs really, really funny.


	32. [ the off-season: anita's date ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yall!! I've been dealing with a mix of real life drama and moving, but I'll be finally pushing more regular updates soon-- I've had plenty of time to plot ❤️ I'll be releasing a couple more shorter pieces like this this week! & After I publish a couple one-shots, Season 2 will be rolling out soon after that~

//  **bangalore's weaponry store** , A32 mainland

I sleep on a sofa. That makes my shop's spare room my bedroom, doesn't it? I don't call it my bedroom though, just my home: a sofa, a rug, a workbench, a dresser, a mirror, a fireplace with an adjacent fridge and countertops, some weapon racks, metal and concrete walls and floors... I didn't need anything else. I've survived with far less. The best feature was that I had no windows, aside small rectangle glass slits along the top edge of the walls. The restricted light made my early mornings look dusty, but it made me feel safe. There's always a bigger fish in the Frontier with the power to find me, to watch me. I refuse to give them the chance.

My lips press together with ferocity-- I had an intense gaze focused on the mirror, watching my sweat-glazed calves begin to bulge.  _Good; the weight feels even._  The tight black sports suit fabric around my body feels like air with a nearby fan blowing against me. I feel fire in my legs as I raise a several plated barbell off the ground over my shoulders. Suddenly, I hear the shop's metal entrance door open.

I groan as I duck under the metal bar and drop the weight, crashing 280 lbs of heavy steel against the concrete-- I wasn't worried. I wanted whoever that entered to know that. "Who's there?" I shout firmly toward my open door, stepping over the exercise equipment. I pick up an R-99 I had hanging off the wall.

"Orange!" a brash baritone voice proclaims. My skin crawls, raising my SMG before I step into the display room.

I quickly turn into the door frame and growl, displeased at the sight of a tall, orange-clothed tanned idiot in my store. Mirage, in his combat suit, grins hesitantly towards me; I could see his anxiety building in his ticking fingers. He shrugs playfully. "O-Orange you glad to see me?"

"Fuck off," I state icily as I lower my gun. I wasn't about to physically injure this guy and piss off Wraith again. That didn't mean I had to be  _nice_. "You really think I wanted to see you here?"

The trickster's caramel lips gave an innocent smirk before his cheeks puff slightly. He blurts with a sigh, "Nah. I know that much." I narrow my glare at him, impatient. His eyes were slacking in eye contact, nervous to meet mine. But I hated his fucking dreamy brown eyes-- they were just another stage to the magician, or another hat to fool people with. I knew Elliot indirectly before anyone else: the man who stole my woman away from me, then broke her apart. _He's an actor; a perfect liar._

"Why are you here then?" I demand simply.

He coughs, staring into a nearby display, "I know you got a date with Wraith tonight."

I cross my arms. "So?"

"I just, uh--" He looks at me now, his eyes glittering. "Look, I'm sorry about everything I did to you... back then. With Sam." My frown sharpens, pinching my cheeks. He shakes his head softly as he looks away again. "I can't make that right for you. I sucked really, r-really bad as a human being. But..." He crosses his arms as he forces a smile. "If you need someone to talk to about Wraith-- find out her favorite color or shoe size-- I'm your guy. Okay?  _No_  shenanigans."

I raise my brow silently.

"No tricks or sabotage, I swear."

I grunt and the man flinches as I twirl my R-99 in my arm, and I catch it by the shaft, away from the trigger. "Yeah, right," I mutter. "Get out of here, Mirage."

The messy haired man makes a sudden step forward but stops immediately when I flash another glare. "Hey!" he shouts with unusual strain, "You make her  _happy_ , okay? All I care about is Wraith being happy."

I  _hated_  how convincing he sounds.

"Oh, how fucking saintly of you," I laugh humorlessly. "And what? I'm gonna learn to trust you?" I drop my gun over the counter and lean aggressively over the edge of the display. "So when you slide between her legs, it'll feel even better to _send me a picture of it?_ "

A look of disgust washes over his face, which surprises me for a moment. I watch him as he raises his hands as if surrendering. "No,  _no!_ That's not me, not anymore. Look," Elliot sighs, "I owe you a favor. A  _big_  favor.  _Anything._ I'm not asking to be your best friend, lady." His hands lower as he rubs behind his neck. "If you need something, no matter what it is..." He nods slightly. "I'm your guy. Take-out in the middle of a park? I'll leave it in a tree nearby-- you'll never see me. Need to organize a surprise party for Wraith? Everybody besides her will get the memo, guaranteed. Weekly groceries? Got it. Armor cleaning? I'll take care of it." He chuckles as he jokes, "Piggyback rides in the Ring? Hell, I'll do that too."

"I'm  _almost_  touched. You think you're strong enough for that, little guy?" I point out with a faint smirk, giving my crossed burly arms a stronger flex.

He lets out another chuckle, albeit a bit more awkward. "Well, if you'd rather hurt me, that's how you could get away with it."

I crack a fuller smirk before hiding it away. "You'd be lucky if I take you up on your favor-- I'm glad you regret what you did. But I'd rather you die with the guilt."

"Hey..." he shrugs as he steps backwards towards the exit, "It's an offer. You don't need to take it, but it's there."

I don't blink. "Mkay."

He nods as he turns himself towards the door, "Take care, Anita." My lips press into a frown again as I hear my name from his lips.  _Ew, gross_.

"Wait," I say quickly. "How'd you find out about the date?" Was she talking about me? I wonder.

Elliot turns back at me with a grin. "Actually, I caught Wraith askin' Pathfinder about what to wear for your date tonight. I'm a  _little_  hurt she didn't ask me, but what's a guy supposed to do?"

_Oh this will be good_. "What did the robot suggest?"

He scratches his beard. "Uhhh... he said that humans wear less clothing the more comfortable they are with someone. He said somethin' about Wraith not needing clothes at all."

I felt a blush creep on my face as I release a booming laugh from my stomach. " _Ha!_ Damn straight." I couldn't think straight if I tried to imagine that right now. I manage a grin. "That robot is a better wingman than you already." I snap my fingers. "Get to work. Find out her favorite food for me."

"Aye-aye captain!" Elliot smirks as he gives me a lazy half-assed salute. It quickly irked me.

"Don't do that again, unless you're gonna do it right."

"Wha?" He blinks.

"The salute." I roll my eyes. "Nevermind."

He looks at me curiously. "Nah, teach me the right way."

I frown, but not because I was insulted. "Maybe." I feel my tone soften by reflex. "It's an IMC trained salute, remember?" The bright enthusiasm on Elliot's face disappears as I expected. I already knew his brothers died in the Frontier Wars; Bloodhound's information stash, the Scavenger, provided me with that much. Depending on their duty stations, the truth is I might've even killed them; but I had no way of knowing yet.

Elliot scratches his head. "I... I don't see you as  _the_  IMC, if you haven't noticed. The war is over. It's fine."

"Is it?" I stare. "I don't regret my service. The only thing I care about is getting back to the Core Systems, to home. The IMC took away more than half of your family." I smile smugly. "Maybe it'll cost a fortune, but at least I get to go back to mine where they're all safe and sound."

"What are you trying to do?" Elliot finally begins to relent, his breathing starting to grow heavier.

I pick up my R-99, toss it over my shoulder. "Just reminding you that I'm not the kind of person you'll feel good about helping. I'm not a good little Frontier girl that needs your pity. Deal with it now, so I won't have to deal with it later." His face softens with sadness, but I don't take a good look. Elliot seemed like he was starting to become an emotional guy-- he's going to regret that like I did. Someone else could become what Elliot was to me; and that was something, admittedly, I didn't even wish on Elliot himself. I walk back into my living room to continue my daily training. "Don't let the door hit your ass on the way out."


	33. [ the off-season: alexander & the ghost ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N - Respawn's Season 2 is released and it's really dope??? I'M SO EXCITED. Also, I've been dying to write in Caustic's point of view for awhile now! Finally got the chance. Hope you enjoy <3

_Caustic's POV_

//  **the scavenger** , A32 mainland

_Before the leadership of Humbert Labs confronted me on my research, I sold many dangerous gas formulas to the IMC. Disposing of my opponents was always the easy part. All I wanted to know was what the IMC was using my creations for; I wanted to find their research or data, and collect it for myself._

_I_ _soon did not care about_ _I wanted. Instead, I find her._

_I can see the purple veins popping out of her neck clearly— throbbing with pain, a physical manifestation of her body begging for relief. She stains the glass with the fog of her breath, then with the oily squeeze of her small, pale hands. I invented the green smoke that tortures her, and I should be content with her treatment: "it punishes a patient for misbehavior without true lethal force," I was told. Seemed like a strange choice for a mentally ill facility, but I didn't ask or care_ _at the time_ _. I didn't care for most people. So why couldn't I enjoy her suffering, as I did for so many others? This time, I was not satisfied. I did not_ feel _like I was getting what I wanted. Science provided me no answers to the mind of this woman. I grew a fascination with her. I watch her fingertips press firmly into the glass, until the skin is white._

_She still wasn't trying to escape._

_The head-shaven void witch is leaning over the containment cell's one-way mirror with a demanding presence. It's as if she sees beyond her opaque reflection, into the room of scientists and IMC personnel on the other side— her piercing dark glare is stubborn and forward, despite the vivid rivers of tears dripping off her chin. We simply stare back in silence. "What is this crazy bitch doing?" A security guard murmurs to another. Her limbs tremble despite her restraint, her voice is deep and raspy as she coughs, and her loose teary saltwater splatters into a wet stain on the barren floor. I couldn't believe I was assigned to be this woman's caretaker: 'Wraith', as they nicknamed the subject._

_Wraith. What a perfect name for this small lab rat. She had the vibrant spirit of an angry ghost, as if she's seen the other side and knows everything we've done; as if she knew how to pull out of the roots of this twisted reality that brought us all here._

_I usually enjoyed seeing death take its grasp on human life, but this time, I didn't. Wraith chewed death and spit it out at us; she knew she deserved better. Suddenly, I think about how I didn't belong in the reality she deserved. She could set the universe on fire, rid it of all its evil and misery, and I would enjoy burning with it. Somehow, despite every human I've killed and tortured by my own hand, I truly desired to take care of this woman. I realized I wanted to live long enough to see her thrive, and to feel pride for my little rat._

And I did. Perhaps she's finally outgrown the title of 'lab rat'; she's an Apex Champion now.

"Alexander?"

Her squeaking pushes away the nostalgia.  _Strange_ , I consider. Whenever I'm reminded of the first time I saw Wraith, it always feels incredibly vivid, like I was reliving it. But I'm actually sitting on a wooden chair, with my hands patiently placed on my thighs. The breeze of the Scavenger's fans were always too strong and loud for my taste; I suppose the cooling is necessary for such large, running computers. But if Bloodhound could bring in fans and computers, why not better lighting? A few singular lightbulbs in the center of the ceiling did not make the abandoned dry dungeon appear less stale.

"Alexander."

I'm still barely breathing as the ghost herself is staring at me, though not in a glass cage this time. She sits across from me at the central table within the Scavenger. Bloodhound stands beside her, masked and with hands clutched behind their back. Wraith says dryly, "I don't think you're paying attention." I smile at that, amused. I was paying incredible attention: to her voice, to the fierce bend of her eyebrows, to the inner powerful fire she carries and uses as a torch to discover the unknown. Her long blackish hair looked beautiful on her— it complimented her light complexion well.

"Apologizes," I state simply, the artificial gruff of my voice wavering as I adjust my mask. The weight of the gas mask used to bother me. Now, it feels like a second skin. "You have my attention."

Wraith's jaw shifts, likely gritting her teeth for a moment, as she leans back in her seat. "I'll ask you one more time: why did you decide to help me?"

I cross my arms as I glance between the two Champions. "I told you when you were about to kill me, weeks ago: I saw you in a torture chamber. You didn't give anyone the pleasure of showing your torment or agony." I pause. "I've killed many people with my creations. I found your reaction... fascinating."

She frowns, unconvinced. "So what? You said back then that instead of screaming with pain, I kept my mouth shut. That's really what impressed you?"

"Perhaps. I have my own reasons," I say to the pale ghost. "None that would interest you." I already knew this to be true, even if she isn't convinced; she hated me with all her being. She always hated me. She didn't need to know just how differently I felt about her.

Wraith's steel toed boots kick the table suddenly, perhaps to frighten me. I break a smirk in response, finding the childish pouting cute. "Bullshit," she hisses. "You think we're keeping your ass here because I'm not interested? Exactly what the hell did you and everybody else do to me anyway? Since you were taking _such good care_  of me." I purse my lips beneath my mask. Now she's just getting bratty.

"I did all caretaking duties for you," I growl. "Everyone else performed experiments on your abilities, your behavior— specifically, how to control both. When the IMC abandoned the facility, the goals changed but your treatment stayed the same. They were planning to sell you off to the highest bidder." I pause. "And if they couldn't sell you, they'd have to dispose of you another way. You were becoming an expensive patient."

Her face distorts with disgust and she turns her face to Bloodhound, who seems to nod. "Not surprising. You were likely the most valuable asset that facility had, Wraith."

I did not disagree with the faceless Champion, but my reasons were far more primal than factual. "I'm curious to what leads you to that assumption," I remark with interest. "That facility kept many high profile patients. I wasn't allowed to see or learn about them all."

Wraith's gaze narrows at me. "You never knew my identity before I was taken?" My head shakes briefly. A tiny portion of the her hostility towards me dissipates; at least, thats what I felt from her gaze. She mutters cautiously, "I was a tenth generation Pilot. I've regenerated at least nine times." My brows lift slighty; a tenth generation Pilot was hardly heard of, even amongst the most elite Pilots. To regenerate once, you had to give up your consciousness to machines. All your memories are wiped as you're taken out of your body and put back in. Imagine re-learning a decade of combat training and who you are all over again-- yet, far faster than before. That's what regeneration did. It was incredibly powerful, with incredible risks.

"A miracle you're still in your human body," I note. "Most Pilots that regenerate that frequently would be transferred into a robotic body-- the human body is susceptible to... mistakes."

Her peach lips press together. "You're suggesting my Void abilities are an unintentional side effect?"

I nod. "It's possible. You didn't gain control of them until I began to feed and care for you." Her nose rises with intensity between her brows, and a beautiful fierce look in her eyes. People are not typically a mystery to me; they are an animal, a science, and can be broken into identifiable parts. Wraith began to make me think differently. She isn't a machine. She's a wilderness: growing, learning, surviving, loving, fighting, and, most of all, dangerous. I try not to get lost in the fantasy, and continue to explain: "If your abilities were a mistake, then the fact your memory wasn't returned to you would make sense. Your perpetrator must've thought you became a lost cause, dropped you off at an IMC facility where nobody would hear from you again, and-- just in case you escaped-- you wouldn't remember who had done that to you anyway."

Black hair casts a shadow over her face as she contemplates, staring down at her wrists. The room shares a few moments of silence, only filled by the hum of fans and deep, filtered breaths.

Bloodhound speaks up. "How did you know Wraith gained control of her powers?"

Some strange warm satisfaction creeps into me, and I couldn't help but give a wide smile. This was my favorite part of the story, after all. "She called me Alexander on her own-- even though I never told her who I was. I only ever spoke my alias around her."

Wraith looks up and stares blankly in confusion.

"One day, your throat was bruised from how harshly a guard had grasped it and thrown you into your cell," I explain simply. "I was worried, frankly, because you wouldn't eat. Not because it hurt too badly to swallow, but you did not trust me." Her stare hardens. I roll my eyes. "With fair reason. But you were still especially..."-- _bratty--_ "... _difficult_  that day. I was forced to grab your wrists as you tried to fight me; I needed to subdue and tie you down if I were to feed you." I smirk faintly.

"Then, your eyes went white. Wraith, you started shaking. ' _Alexander_ ,' you said, in a trance, and you clutched my suit. ' _I promised a little blonde girl I'd find her again_ ,' you whispered. Then, you shouted at my face: ' _Let me out!_ ' It was like watching your spirit leave your body as you screamed. I watched you faint in my arms." Suddenly, her expression towards me was unlike how she's ever looked at me before. With a softly gaped mouth, she was listening. Was it awe or shock in her face? I wonder. Bloodhound's posture seems to stiffen, their arms gripping tighter behind their back. Their posture realigns with me in the center of their view. I give a coy look at the hunter; if only their mask could hide their jealousy. "What is it?"

Bloodhound's mask is still. "Mr. Nox, I do noth trust that you're being entirely truthful to us."

"No," Wraith gives the hunter a serious look. "It's true. My voices told me his name. I..." Her eyes glaze for a moment as they wander. "I begged the voices to help me know what to say: I tapped into the knowledge of all of my alternate dimentional selves." I lean back into my chair a bit, keeping my shoulders relaxed. The ghostly woman looks back at me, almost gently. "Thank you for helping me get out of that place... Alexander." She bites her lip. "I still need to figure out how to find the girl."

I nod slowly, my legs and back beginning to ache from sitting in this wooden chair. "I might know a well-connected individual who can help you." Wraith's brows lower cautiously, guarded. "Don't worry, she's friendly," I grunt. " _Too friendly_  for my tastes."

 


End file.
